The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It’s a small diner, barely within the city limits of Chrystal Heights proper. It has the unimaginative name of The Chrystal Diner, although if you drive past it at night, you would think it was named The Ch y tal Din r, as several bulbs are burned out in the letters on the roof. It’s a clichéd diner, but it suits the customers—and, therefore, the owner—just fine. The meatloaf even has a fan club, of sorts.

This diner rests on the road that runs east-west between Chrystal Heights and Darkview. Chrystal Heights has a reputation for strangeness; Darkview has a reputation for darkness. Or, to put it idiomatically, Chrystal Heights has mystery; Darkview has secrets. Because the diner sits along this direct path, odd characters often drop in for a cup of coffee and a slice of pie before quietly hitting the road again. Or, occasionally, not so quietly. But those times are rare, and memories are short here. Besides, the coffee is strong and usually fresh. Also, nobody asks questions at this diner.

“Getcha something???” asked Claire, working her gum. The redhead was a clichéd waitress in a clichéd diner, and she played her role to the hilt.

“Is Charlie here?” asked the man.

“Sorry, honey,” said Claire. “I don’t know a Charlie.”

The man grunted.

“Anything else I can get for you?” asked the waitress.

“Yeah,” said the man. “Gimme a cup of your gorram coffee.”

Claire made a note. “One cup of our gorram coffee,” she said. “Got it.”

Claire turned to the girl. The thin teen’s hand was thrust down the front of her unbuttoned Daisy Duke denim shorts and she was fingering herself furiously. Her breath was coming in short gasps and her cheeks were wet with tears.

“How ‘bout you, sweetie?” said Claire. “Getcha anything? We got a meatloaf special tonight.”

“Please,” said the girl between gasps, fingers working her clit. “Please help. I can’t stop. I keep trying, but I can’t stop.”

“Well, I’m trying to help, honey,” said Claire. “If you don’t want the meatloaf, how ‘bout some nice apple pie?”

“Please...!” said the girl

“Well, ain’t that sweet,” said Claire. “Your mama taught you manners and you actually remember them! You said ‘please.’ Apple pie it is, then. Back in a jiff.”

Claire walked toward the kitchen smiling. Such a nice young girl! There was something off about her, but the waitress couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Still, the girl had to be a sweetie or that nice man wouldn’t be with her. Now, he was something special.

Bobby watched the waitress walk away, then turned to the thin teen.

“Why, Fingerslut,” said Bobby, “Just thirty orgasms and you’re crying like a little girl.”

“It hurts!” said the girl. “And my name is Isobel, not Fingerslut!”

“You’re whiny, Fingerslut,” said Bobby. “I should have left your ass on the side of the road.”

“I wish you had!” said Isobel.

“Well, you shouldn’t be hitchhiking anyway, Fingerslut. Now you can just rub your pussy raw for all I care.”

“It hurts!” said Isobel.

“Wah wah wah,” said Bobby, making mocking baby-crying sounds. “Want me to call you a waaaaaambulance?”

“You’re a bastard!” said Isobel, shoving the plastic sugar packet container at Bobby with her free hand.

“Stupid brat,” said Bobby, grabbing Isobel’s arm and pulling the surprised teen over his lap. “I didn’t tell you to pass the fucking sugar.”

Claire arrived with the order then. “Here you go,” she said. “Coffee for you and an apple pie for the sweet young lady.”

Isobel squirmed and wriggled as Bobby casually spanked her now-bared ass.

“Oh! Ouch! Oh! Stop! Oh! Ouch! Please! Ow! Stop! Oh! Ouch! Oh!”

“Whoa!” said Claire, as a flailing hand from Isobel caught Bobby’s coffee and nearly spilled it. “Careful there, honey. You don’t wanna spill that coffee. It’s fresh brewed.”

The black pickup’s tires crunched gravel as it pulled to the side of the road. The engine shut off and everything was quiet.

Inside the cab, the dark-haired man lifted the eyepatch that covered his left eye. He squinted his right eye shut and studied the bluish vapor trails that he could now see.

The strength of the trail suggested that Bobby had passed down this road very recently while actively using his power. Possibly even within the last hour.

There was a diner about half a mile down the road. Perhaps someone there had seen him.

“Take your medicine, Fingerslut,” said Bobby.

“Ow! Ow!” said Isobel. “Stop!”

Isobel struggled and kicked, trying to get free while still fingering herself. She inadvertently kicked off one of her shoes, which flipped over into the next booth and landed on a man’s plate.

The beefy man turned around. “Hey,” he said. “Do you fucking mind?”

Bobby looked at the man and laughed. Then he pushed Isobel off his lap and stood up. He picked up his coffee and drank it straight down without pausing, as if it were room temperature and not fresh from the pot. Then he tossed his coffee cup to the floor.

“No, I don’t mind one fucking bit,” said Bobby. “How ‘bout you, berk? You mind?”

“Yeah,” said the man, standing as well. “I do.”

“Yeah, baby!” said Bobby. He drove both palms into the man’s chest, shoving him back. “C’mon, fuckhead! Let’s dance!”

The man stumbled back a step from the unexpected shove. Then he stepped forward and swung a heavy fist at Bobby’s head.

Bobby ducked under the punch and spun around, back-kicking the man in the stomach. The man gasped and bent over slightly, trying to catch his breath. Bobby punched the man under the jaw, making him stumble back and fall across his table on his back, dazed.

“Not bad, berk,” said Bobby. “You lasted almost three seconds.”

Claire walked over. “More coffee, honey?” she said.

“Nah, no more fucking coffee for me.” said Bobby, “but you’ve been such a gorram sweetheart, I’m gonna reward you.” He reached down and grabbed the waistband of the man’s jeans. He pulled the button apart, tearing the man’s jeans open to the crotch.

“There you go,” he said. “Hop on and fucking enjoy.”

The waitress pulled her skirt up to her waist and worked her way onto the table. She then straddled the dazed man and began rubbing her sex over his cock.

The man hardened and the waitress began cooing. Suddenly she raised up and then lowered herself onto his hardness.

Claire squealed and began stroking herself up and down his shaft. “Yes!” she said. “That’s it, baby! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Heads began turning. At a nearby table, four college-aged girls stared, mouths agape.

“Ewwwwww!” said one of the girls. “What the hell is wrong with you people?!”

Bobby turned and stared at the girl.

All four chairs scraped and the girls stood up. Their eyes widened as their hands began stripping off each other’s tops and bras. Within moments, all four were naked to the waist.

The girl who had originally spoke looked at Bobby. “H-Hey!” she said. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!”

“Shut the fuck up,” said Bobby, “and dance. Shake that hot fucking slut ass for us.”

“What?” said the girl. “I don’t...oh! No, please!”

While she was speaking, the girl had climbed onto the table and stood up. Now she had kicked off her shoes and was stripping off the rest of her clothing. Her friends grabbed her arms and tried to stop her.

“Stop, Katie! Fight him!” said one of the friends. The friend turned and glared at Bobby, bare breasts jiggling. “Leave her alone!” she said. “She said she was sorry!”

“Yeah, I fucking heard her,” said Bobby. He narrowed his eyes.

The friend who had spoken up gasped and climbed onto the table with Katie. Her clothing joined Katie’s on the floor. Moments later, both girls were naked and dancing with each other on the diner table.

“Oh, that’s nice,” said Bobby, “but let’s add a little fucking ambiance to it.”

The two friends who were topless but not on the table backed away, but it was too late. Bobby narrowed his eyes at them, and both girls turned simultaneously to each other. Then they came together and began kissing in a heated manner, their hands all over each other’s bodies.

“Mmmmmpphh!” they said.

“Rock on,” said Bobby.

Customers across the diner began standing and muttering. Not everybody could hear what was being said, but a waitress was riding a man on a table, a girl was playing with herself on the floor, two topless girls were kissing each other like they were alone and two naked girls were dancing on a table. A weatherman wasn’t needed.

The various men in the diner looked at each other. They knew they should do something, but none of them had any clue what. A pair of burly truck drivers glanced at each other, then at the dancing girls. Three leather-clad male bikers and a muscular female biker also watched, unsure of what to do. Three members of a local high school football team shifted uncomfortably, wanting to help the attractive girls, but realizing Bobby was bad news.

It was the female biker who finally made a move. “Hey, asshole,” she said. “Why don’t you just leave them the fuck alone?”

Bobby laughed. “Booya, bitch,” he said. “Gonna make me?”

“Yeah, dickweed,” said the biker girl. “I ain’t got time for nanny nanny boo boo shit, though.” She picked up a coffee cup, turned and hurled the cup at Bobby.

The diner went silent as the collective group watched the cup sail through the air. Then, galvanized by the biker girl’s daring act, the group moved forward as one.

Bobby leaned to the side, laughing as the cup flew past him. Then he straightened back up. “Nice!” he said. “Very nice! I love you, ballsy slut!”

One of the bikers reached Bobby first. He reached out and grabbed the front of Bobby’s shirt with both hands.

Bobby reached over the biker’s right hand and grabbed his left wrist. Then he speared the biker’s larynx with the stiffened fingers of his right hand. He swung his right arm around then and broke the biker’s hold on his shirt in the same move. He finished with a punch to the biker’s solar plexus.

Bobby laughed as the man fell gasping. Then he eyed the rest of the approaching group.

The bikers and truckers moved as one, with one group coming up one aisle and the other moving parallel in another aisle.

“Everybody at once!” said a biker. “He can’t stop us all! Get him!”

“I don’t think so,” said Bobby, holding up his hand in a claw-like fashion.

Everybody except the female biker stopped moving. The female biker continued forward, grimly aware her compatriots had been stopped but determined to take down Bobby.

Bobby smiled at the woman, eyes glittering. “What’s your name, tough girl?”

“None of your business,” said the biker chick, pausing to grab a ketchup bottle. She shattered the bottle on a table and hoisted the jagged end. “But you can call me Max.”

Max reached Bobby and slashed at him without preamble. Missing, she swung again, and Bobby dodged again. However, he backed up a step, seemingly respecting her speed and lack of hesitation in attempting to slice him.

“You vicious little thing,” said Bobby. “We could have a future together, despite your masculine tendencies.”

“Doubtful,” said Max, pausing a moment to catch her breath. “I’m a vegetarian.”

“A vegetarian?” said Bobby. “Oh! You mean a lesbian!”

“Right the first time,” said Max, renewing her slashing attack.

“Pity,” said Bobby. He waited for a moment, observing her attack patterns. Then he stepped in and caught the wrist of her hand that was holding the broken bottle. Still holding the wrist, he whirled so his back was against her. Then he elbowed her sharply in the breast with his other arm.

Max gasped and dropped the bottle reflexively. She tried to pull away, but Bobby controlled her wrist.

Bobby switched hands on her wrist, reached over his shoulder and grabbed hold of her short hair, and flipped her onto a table. Max landed flat on her back with a bone-rattling thud.

Max lay on the table, dazed. Her head lay on the edge of the table closest to Bobby. Bobby stepped forward and pressed his crotch against Max’s forehead.

“Sweet stuff, babe,” said Bobby. “You’re a damn tough lesbian!”

“Leave her alone!” said a voice.

Bobby turned. Then he laughed.

“Awwwww, that’s sweet!” said Bobby. “The cute wittle high school boys are gonna wescue the poor captured biker lesbian princess!”

“C’mon, man,” said the leader of the three high schoolers. “Just leave her alone. She’s a chick, y’know?”

Bobby’s eyes glittered. “This chick could kick all your asses,” he said. “But you’re right. She deserves better. I’m going to reward her. And you guys, too.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes.

The three high-schoolers’ faces flushed as a sudden rush of heated lust raced through their already over over-stimulated adolescent bodies. The only thing on their collective minds now was sticking their cocks into the cum dumpster biker chick laying on the table.

It never occurred to them to ask. They raced to the far side of the table and pulled Max’s tight leather pants to her ankles. Her clothing was then torn off in moments, leaving her clad in nothing but leather biker boots.

Max found herself unable to control her responses. Her body reacted to every move the boys made, her hands and hips responding to their every touch.

Within moments, she was bent over the side of the table. One boy stood behind her, driving his rigid cock into her. Another boy straddled the table, giving Max’s mouth access to his cock. The lesbian biker found her mouth stroking up and down a shaft while another cock pounded her from behind. All she could do was shudder in helpless heat as Bobby ramped up her mouth and clitoral sensitivity. She had become a sex toy for hormonal teenagers.

Bobby’s head suddenly snapped up. The girls had stopped dancing. Isobel was getting off the floor.

“Hey!” he said. “Back to work.”

The girls slapped together as if someone had pushed a button. One girl began to slide her wet sex up and down the other’s thigh. Isobel dropped back to the ground and began fingering herself again with an audible groan.

Bobby’s eyes glittered. He scanned the diner, then stopped when he saw the struggling bikers and truckers.

“Sorry, boys,” said Bobby. “I’m trying to control too many of you berks at once. I like the girls where they’re at, so I’m going to have to redirect a few of you. Fucking enjoy.”

Suddenly the bikers and truckers could move again. They took a moment to stretch, their eyes falling upon each other. Then, after a moment of heated clarity when each group realized the other group needed a foot up their fucking asses, the brawl began.

“Yes!” said Bobby. “That’s what I’m talking about! Oh, baby!”

Bobby stepped on a chair and then onto a table. He surveyed the dining room.

Chaos reigned in the diner. Bikers and truckers pushed, punched and kicked each other in flurries of violent energy. Girls danced and kissed in erotic displays of simmering heat. Waitresses rode customers while the biker chick sex toy got pounded silly by high schoolers. The air crackled with violence and debauchery, and Bobby laughed. For the first time in years, he felt truly alive.

And that’s when Hunter entered the diner.

When Hunter’s black pickup pulled into the diner’s parking lot, he knew he had located Bobby.

This hadn’t required any great stretch of Hunter’s abilities. One glance through the oversized diner windows had told Hunter everything he needed to know. Had he lifted the patch covering his left eye, Hunter would have seen the diner surrounded by a fog-like blue mist, but he found the women dancing naked on the table and the men brawling across the diner floor to be equally informative. Hunter was intuitive like that.

The dark-haired man reached behind his seat and pulled out what appeared to be a two-foot tube with a handle on one end. Holding the tube by the handle, Hunter walked inside the diner.

“Hunter!” said Bobby. “Why, how the hell are ya, you old trope?”

“Getting by, Bobby,” said Hunter, eyes taking in the immediate area. “Yourself?”

“Damn, you still have that gravelly voice,” said Bobby. “Do you smoke your cigarettes or eat them?”

“I don’t smoke, Bobby,” said Hunter. “It’s unhealthy.”

“Really?” said Bobby, in mock seriousness. “I had no idea.”

“So,” said Hunter, nodding his head toward three professionally-dressed women in their mid-twenties, “what’s that about?”

A blonde woman was writhing on the ground, knees wide, masturbating furiously with a cell phone. Next to her, a brunette was sliding a cell phone into a black girl’s painfully stretched anus.

“It’s cool,” said Bobby. “They have rollover minutes. Also, maybe next time someone tells them to not touch their fucking cell phones, they’ll listen.”

“They look like I-phones,” said Hunter. “I wonder if there’s an app for that kind of thing.”

Bobby blinked incredulously for a moment. Then he broke out in a bellowing laugh.

“You’re still a hardass, ain’tcha, Captain?” said Bobby. “Not gonna give an inch.”

“Major now, actually.”

“Congratu-fucking-lations,” said Bobby. “You know, you really shouldn’t have come back here, old man. When I left, I was but the learner. Now, I’m the master.”

Hunter shook his head. “Please tell me,” he said in his gravelly voice, “that you didn’t really just say that to me.”

Bobby laughed. “Hell, I love that movie. Besides, it fits. You know damn well you got lucky when you took me down last time. And that was ten years ago. I was just a punk kid then.”

“You were twenty,” said Hunter, “and dangerous. Pity. You should have let me finish training you before you went Section Eight on us.”

“Whatever,” said Bobby. “All I know is I got to spend the last ten years of my life locked away and stoned out of my skull.”

“I’m sure you miss it,” said Hunter. “Anyway, you know the Man isn’t going to let you run wild, so he sent me to bring you in. Let’s get started already.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” said Bobby. “Charlie is coming, and I don’t have time to play. As much as I’d like to leave you a drooling fuck pillow, I have things to do. So, I’m going to have to settle for letting all my new friends here beat you into a little bloody pulp.”

“Wait a minute,” said Hunter. “Charlie? Who the hell is Charlie?”

But it was too late. Hunter realized with a sinking feeling that Bobby was actively controlling more people than he had previously thought...and those people were all approaching him.

With a sigh, Hunter raised his tube in a defensive fencing stance. When the first one got there, Hunter pressed the end of the tube against the man’s stomach and he pressed the thumb button.

There was a momentary crackle of electricity. The man folded over and then dropped to the ground.

“Amped up cattle prod,” said Hunter. “Useful against crowds.”

“Cute,” said Bobby. “Anyway, have fun.”

“Stick around,” said Hunter. “I won’t be long.”

Bobby skirted the melee and reached the front door. “Later, bitch.”

Hunter shifted and shocked, scrambling around tables on occasion. The power in his shock rod was fading, however, and it appeared that Hunter might be overwhelmed by numbers. Hunter had no chance of stopping Bobby from leaving.

Hunter dropped the now dead shock rod to the ground and side-kicked a trucker in the stomach. Then he back-handed a naked girl to the ground. He whirled, trying to take down everyone at once.

Hunter looked as the last of the customers approaching him. He narrowed his eye. They stopped moving, though their struggles to do so were visible. His one eye widened, and the customers fell back a step. While they struggled between his control and Bobby’s, he headed for the door.

Hunter went outside, knowing he was going to find an empty parking lot. Bobby had had several minutes to get away, and that was all he needed.

Then he noticed the police cruiser.

Hunter walked toward the police car. On the other side of the vehicle, a naked female was on all fours, her cheek pressed to the pavement. A police officer’s uniform lay crumpled on the ground a few feet away. Behind her, a dressed male officer was sliding his baton back and forth inside her wet sex. The female officer whimpered and wriggled.

Bobby stood not far away, eyes glittering.

Hunter shook his head. “You never could keep it cool around the police, could you?”

Bobby turned and laughed, pointing at the struggling officers. “Fucking cops. Getting what they deserve.”

“You should have left when you had the chance, Bobby,” said Hunter.

Bobby smiled, fixing Hunter with a wide-eyed stare.

Hunter stared back at Bobby with his one good eye.

“Why, Bobby,” said Hunter, “are you trying to get inside my head?”

Bobby laughed. “Just making sure you still got it, old man.”

Hunter stared back impassively. “All that power,” he said, “and completely fucked up.”

Bobby laughed. “Fucking A.”

“Bobby,” said Hunter, “enough. Cut ‘em loose. Let’s do this already.”

“You’re awfully anxious to get your ass kicked, old man,” said Bobby. “Just give me a moment to lock it in and we can get started.”

Bobby stared at the two officers a moment longer. Then he turned back to Hunter.

“Let’s do it, fucker.”

Bobby stepped up and whirled, his leg arching, his spinning back kick grazing Hunter’s cheek. Hunter dropped and whirled as well, kicking Bobby’s foot out from beneath him.

Bobby landed on his back, but shoulder-sprung back to his feet. Then he jumped forward and drove the blade of his foot at Hunter’s ribs. Hunter forearm blocked the kick, spun and elbowed Bobby’s thigh. Then his forearm shot up to block Bobby’s back counter-punch.

The two men separated and slowly circled each other. Had Hunter been able to lift his patch, he would have seen a swirl of colored mist indicating the high level of psionic activity between the two of them. The physical battle was only half the fight.

“I think you’re a step slow, old man,” said Bobby. “You spent too much time fighting schlubs in the diner. You really should focus on priorities.”

“I was about to say the same thing about you,” said Hunter. “They kept telling me how badass your psi is, but I think you spent too much time playing with schlubs in the diner, berk.”

Bobby stepped forward and drove stiffened fingers at Hunter’s throat. Hunter blocked and chopped at Bobby’s throat. Bobby pulled in his shoulder to block. Strikes and blows flickered between them faster than the eye could follow, but neither could gain an advantage.

Bobby finally took a step back. He was breathing heavy now. No one had pushed him like this in a long time.

“Not bad, old man,” said Bobby. “Not bad. But I ain’t got time. You can beat on Officer Friendly here.”

The male officer suddenly turned, leaving the baton sticking out of the female officer’s sex. He walked over to Hunter and wrapped his arms around him in what appeared to be a hug.

“Time to go,” said Bobby.

Still holding the officer in a front hug, Hunter turned so that he was facing forward, the officer’s back to Bobby. Then Hunter’s hand slid down and he pulled the officer’s tazer free.

“I don’t think so,” said Hunter. Then he pulled the trigger.

Director Pinkerton dropped a sheaf of papers on his desk.

“All right, Jackson. Status report.”

“Yes, sir. For starters, Bobby is back in custody, sedated and heavily guarded.”

“And not a moment too soon.”

“Agreed, sir,” said Jackson. “Bobby was peaking, and his psychosis was giving his abilities an edge that was becoming increasingly dangerous.”

“Still, at least Hunter was able to take him down.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jackson. “Not easily, though, and Bobby would probably still be free if it wasn’t for his lack of impulse control, particularly where police are concerned.”

“True...although Bobby might not have been so dangerous if he had impulse control.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did anyone find out who this ‘Charlie’ is?”

“No, sir,” said Jackson. “Possibly it’s a product of Bobby’s deranged mind.”

“Is that the official position?”

“We don’t know yet, sir,” said Jackson. “Important people are wondering, however.”

“I see. Still, they have Hunter if there is something to this Charlie.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jackson. “They do. However, some issues came to light during this situation, and the powers want to address it.”

“Issues?”

“Yes, sir,” said Jackson. “Specifically, the fact that Bobby was able to control and use a large number of civilians against Hunter. Also, they want to know who or what ‘Charlie’ is.”

“I see.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jackson. “Anyway, they put Hunter on it, and Hunter apparently has a plan.”

“Really?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, what is it?”

“Hunter wants to train a team.”

“A team?”

“Yes, sir,” said Jackson. “A team of individuals with abilities like his. Or Bobby’s.”

“I see.”

“Yes, sir,” said Jackson. “A psionic covert action team.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir.”