The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Relatable

Chapter II: Becky Unchained

It was no secret that ever since we were children, I’d harbored a crush on my friend Bella. In high school, I asked her to prom. We did go together, but just as friends. In college, I confessed my true feelings to her, at which point we decided (or rather, she decided) that it was better if we just stayed friends. “Don’t want to ruin this friendship over a stupid relationship, right?” she’d reasoned. Right. “Stupid”. So even though I still thought Bella was the perfect woman, I let it go, and we stayed just friends. But now... now I had a chance to change that. I had a chance to change Bella’s mind about me. All I had to do was change Becky’s mind. The best part was that if anything went downhill, a little reflection was all it would take to fix things.

I got to writing. I still wanted this to be Bella, but I wanted it to be a Bella who wanted me. And since I didn’t know whether I could write anything, or just this story, to achieve the effects I’d seen, I decided I would have to fit the changes into the story I already had. It wouldn’t be easy—what did a woman being tortured in hell with nightmares and bad sex scenes have in common with Bella?—but I took it as a writing challenge. Remember all those literary prompts you used to get in school? I bet none of them were “Turn a demon-tortured girl into an avatar of your real-life crush”. So it took me a long time to get it just right, but ultimately, I did. I just had to call Bella over to read it.

“No way,” she told me over the phone.

“What? But I need feedback, and you always test read for me.”

“Look, I don’t know what happened last time. I really don’t. But I do remember being so prepared to do something that we’d both regret forever, and I don’t want to cross that line this time.”

“Are you blaming me for writing a story?” I hoped I sounded convinced that the story was harmless.

“No, Jaime, of course not.” She sighed. “I’m not blaming anyone but myself. But that’s the problem: I can’t trust myself around you, apparently.”

“If it reassures you at all, I removed the sex scene. That was only there to get your attention anyway.”

“Well, attention got. I still don’t think it’s a good idea...”

“How will I get honest feedback, then?”

There was a short moment of silence. “Ugh, alright. I’ll read your new stuff. But if anything weird happens, I’m putting the pages down and leaving and I swear I won’t do it again.”

“Deal,” I agreed. I only needed one night with her, so I was fine with it not happening again.

She arrived about an hour later. I welcomed her inside with a smile, but she was clearly not looking forward to this, and the concern on her face was transparent. “Let’s get this over with,” she ordered as she plopped onto my couch. I handed her the story and stood behind the couch to follow over her shoulder.

She read about Becky, now back in the nightmare maze with no Cody in sight. Becky ran, head spinning, totally lost but knowing pain and fear were always around every corner. She screamed out for help, but as usual, no help came. As she rounded another corner and tried to stop, she fell and slid directly into one of the illusions. Suddenly, she found herself living the nightmare.

Becky was in a dilapidated, empty wooden house, the very stereotype of haunted. Boards lined all the windows and doors, but otherwise there was nothing to be seen. Thunder crashed outside as lightning burst behind the tiny cracks in the planks. Becky shook her head, confused. In quite the same way as you know what’s going on in a dream that makes no sense, Becky had the odd feeling that she was someone else. Betty? No, not a Betty. Bella. Yes, she was a Bella in this dream, though she didn’t know why. (I expected Bella to react to reading her name, but she didn’t; she just kept reading, as if she couldn’t stop.) She was a Bella, but still a Becky, which made perfect sense and no sense at all. She called out to anyone who could hear. “Hello?”

Suddenly, the form of a man faded into existence in front of her. She knew him. His name was... what was it again? Right: Jaime. He was a stranger, yet she’d known him forever. “Jaime,” she heard herself say, “What’s happening?”

“Dear Bella,” the man replied, his voice soft but echoing in unnatural ways. “Does that matter? You’re here. We’re here. Stop fighting and just be.”

Becky-Bella felt a sense of calm come over her, but she was smart. Too smart to fall for this. “No, but... I was in hell. I was in a maze, and—”

“Shhh,” the man said. “Don’t think too much. Just be.”

“But I... no, this isn’t real...”

“Who cares what’s real?” And in that moment, Becky-Bella knew why she felt so safe with this man. She’d had feelings for Jaime since they were young. And though she was intelligent enough to know this was a trick, she was romantic enough to stop caring. At least for the moment.

She embraced Jamie, and the two kissed for what seemed like hours. And then the clothes started coming off...

That was where the story ended. I didn’t want to push things too far if anything didn’t work this time, so I’d stopped writing just before the action. I looked at Bella’s face and did indeed see the confusion that had become so familiar by now. “Bella?” I asked.

“Oh...” she said softly, staring at the page. A second later, she turned to face me. “Oh! Jaime! I don’t know what this is all about, but... I need you here. I need you now.” Her hands scrabbled for my face behind her, and I rushed around the couch to face her properly. In seconds, we were making out, the written version of this scene dropped to the coffee table, forgotten. She reached down and unbuttoned my jeans, and I broke off the kiss for a moment. “Bedroom,” I said breathlessly.

“But... the house is empty, Jaime,” she said. Apparently, in her mind, we were still in the haunted house from the story.

I had to play along. “Do you really think that in a dream—even a nightmare—I’d ever let you be uncomfortable?”

“Oh, Jaime!” she exclaimed, then let me take her by the hand and lead her into my bedroom. As we passed the bathroom door, I was glad I’d covered the mirrors with bed sheets in preparation for this. I could only imagine what kind of trouble I’d be in if Bella saw herself in the mirror before we’d even reached my room.

I kissed her neck as I dropped her gently to the bed. Her hands wrapped around me, apparently forgetting their earlier attempts to undress me, but my hands were only beginning to undress her. I lifted her T-shirt over her head and ran my fingers across her back as my lips explored her shoulders. She shivered and moaned, then reached down to pull off her own jeans this time and kick them aside.

I licked her neck, and after letting out another moan, Bella started to say something. “I don’t...” “Hmm?” I asked, my lips making their way down to her chest. “I don’t care.... if this isn’t real... I don’t care....” Now, in hindsight, she probably meant she didn’t care if I was just a hellish nightmare trying to manipulate her. But there was more blood in my dick than my brain just then, and convinced that she was telling me that the real Bella wanted me, my arousal shot through the roof.

I’m not even entirely sure of the details of the rest of the night. I don’t think my pants lasted much longer, and I’m pretty sure I was inside her in at least three positions. I also know that she decided not to swallow, but had no regard for my furniture, as she spit my cum directly onto my bed and left a lovely stain that I eventually had to elbow-grease out. I wasn’t mad, to be clear: we were both so caught up in the heat of the moment that if we’d destroyed the house I wouldn’t have minded. And to her, none of this was real anyway...

We eventually fell asleep, both totally naked and spooning. A romantic end to a wildly romantic night. I drifted off to sleep smiling, figuring I’d have Bella check a mirror in the morning and then tell her she came onto me (which would be technically true). Things would be awkward, but no one would be blamed, and after awhile we’d go back to normal. Unfortunately, Becky had other plans.

When I woke up, Bella was standing in the bedroom doorway, fully dressed, leaning against the frame and smiling. As I rubbed my eyes, I realized that her smile was the sarcastic kind people give you when they’re angry about something.

“Morning, Jaime. Sleep well? Sending anyone else to hell today?”

Still groggy, I asked, “Huh?” and sat up in bed. “What’s up, Bella?”

She scoffed. “Bella? Yeah, no. I’m not your fantasy fever dream. I know exactly who I am now. I’m Becky, but you already know that.”

“Ugh,” I groaned. “Okay, Becky. Maybe you should check the mirror, and then we can—”

“Oh, I already have.” What? The red flag woke me right the hell up. “See, while you were still sleeping, I woke up. I thought it was weird, waking up in the middle of a nightmare. I figured if this whole thing was a demon’s trick, then they wanted something from me. But you know me, ‘Becky-Bella’ is the smart one, right? So I started snooping.”

Uh-oh. I thought I saw where this was going, and it was nowhere good. “Becky, can we just—”

“No!” she yelled, furious, as she kicked the side of my bookshelf so hard a few books fell onto the floor. “No. You’ve had a voice for far too long. It’s my turn to talk!”

I put my hands up. “Okay... okay, Becky... say what you need to say.” I figured she was lying about checking the mirror, and once her tantrum was over, I’d bring her into the bathroom, get Bella back, and all would be resolved.

“So guess what I found while looking around the house? Some papers, lying on the table, with a story. A story written by Jaime Filigree. Weird that demons would leave a story behind for me, right? So I started reading. Imagine my surprise when everything that’s happened to me, at home and in hell, was written out there on the page for anyone to read. So I did some more snooping, and I found an earlier draft... one where I fucked Cody in hell? But here’s the thing: no one knows about Cody. At least, in the latest version of your story, no one does, but somehow he was there on the page, too? I started to piece things together... and then I checked her ID. The one she carries in the purse she left in your living room. Bella. SHE is Bella. SHE is the reason I suddenly thought I was Bella!”

“It’s not like that—” I tried to defend myself.

“IT’S EXACTLY LIKE THAT! You wanted me to check the mirror? I already have! I saw my face... it’s not my face. It’s HER face. And here’s the strangest part: your Bella? She’s still in here somewhere. Once I saw who I was, once I figured out what I was, she started screaming. In the back of my mind, I can hear her... but I won’t go back! I won’t go back to hell just to save your little fuck buddy!” Another kick, another four books on the floor.

“Look, Becky... I can write you a better story. I can get you out of hell, give you a happy ending. I just need you to—”

“To what? Give you your girlfriend back? Except no, she’s not your girlfriend, is she? If she was, you wouldn’t have had to write her into your story... to turn ME into HER for your pleasure. You manipulated her the same way you’ve been manipulating me from the start. You may have created me, but you do NOT get to control me any longer! I write my own story now!”

She spun around and stomped away towards the front door. “Becky, no! You can’t do this!” I yelled after her, jumping out of bed and quickly trying to dress myself. I was too slow, and with her head start, Becky slammed the door behind her. I peeked into the master bathroom and saw the bed sheet on the floor, the mirror exposed. She hadn’t been lying: the mirror didn’t work. And now Becky was ready to face the real world, while using my friend Bella’s body as a joyride. What the fuck had I actually done here?