The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Kent Tucker, this board finds that you have willfully violated the terms of your parole,” the stern-faced woman in the slate gray pinstripe suit stated in a calm voice. “As you were sentenced to a term of fifteen years, we have no choice but to order you returned to prison to serve out the rest of your term.”

“No choice?” I said, bemused, scratching lightly at my neck. Damned collar. “That’s an interesting turn of phrase, don’t you think, Ms. Chasen?” I scratched again, frowning at the way the manacles around my wrists clinked, preventing me from even reaching the spot that itched.

The board chairman scowled at me, her bun-tied dark hair making her expression even more severe. “Considering that that is your modus operandi, Mr. Tucker—subverting the wills of your victims and leaving them without the ability to choose for themselves—I think those words are quite appropriate.”

I sighed, softly, shrugging. “Perhaps. But really... is your decision appropriate? Sending me off to jail for fifteen years? Because I had a bad day? It happens—”

“This is NOT a discussion, Mr. Tucker,” Ms. Chasen replied firmly. “This is a hearing. And the decision of this board is final.” She gestured to the guards to come and haul me away.

“And I don’t get a say in all of this?” I protested, standing up even as the guards approached. “This is a parole hearing, after all! I mean, this isn’t even a court of law! You’re not a judge or jury, you’re a bunch of people deciding my fate based on one side of the story! I should at least get to tell MY side of things!” The guards reached for my arms, but to my relief, Chasen held up a hand.

“I believe you had plenty of chances to voice your objections at the preliminary hearing,” a second board member, a Mr. Adam Jackson, replied. “And given the overwhelming amount of testimony and evidence presented by your parole officer and other witnesses, I don’t believe there is anything you can say to contest the facts in this case.” He smirked. “Especially while that power negation collar is around your neck, Mr. Tucker. Or do you prefer your villainous moniker, The Usurper?”

I chuckled drily at that. Yeah, things would be going a lot differently if this stupid collar hadn’t been slapped on me. Stupid thing. And the damned thing was either sprayed with or coated in latex, with the way my skin was reacting. Not that they cared. Cruel and unusual punishment, anyone?

“Nevertheless,” I said, sitting back down in my chair, “as the accused, I believe I do have the right to speak for myself. Now, let me be frank. I’m not going to try and dispute the charges filed against me. I did everything that the parole officer, Miss Caldwell, accused me of.” I sighed softly. “My point is... there were extenuating circumstances that lead to me using my powers as I did. And, well, things just kind of snowballed after that...”

First of all, I just have to say... fuck the system. Seriously. Fifteen years for causing an orgy to break out at a college frat party? What the hell! Okay, yes, yes, I wasn’t technically a student there... and technically a bunch of innocent girls, including several confirmed lesbians, and a couple of devout Christians saving themselves for marriage lost their virginity... but its not my fault. Really!

Okay, by your expressions of contempt, you seem to think I’m just trying to shift the blame. But I’m being serious here. Let me start from the beginning.

So. Yes. I used to be a supervillain. Emphasis on used to be. I got my powers when I was a teenager. Went hog wild. Abused the ever-lovin’ shit out of them! And really, the orgy I caused is really just a drop in the bucket compared to the shit I used to get into back in the day—

Yeah. Okay. Not doing myself any favors there. Got it.

My point is, I was pretty fucking wild. When you have the ability to simply focus on someone and make them do what you want, its pretty damn easy to become a bad guy. In college, I had a philosophy teacher that once asked a question that I never forgot: Is there such a thing as goodness without consequences? If you could be selfish and evil, basically do anything you wanted, with no repercussions at all, would you bother to restrain yourself? Could you restrain yourself? Because let’s face it... people are NOT generally good for goodness’ sake. We’re good because we know that being bad comes with consequences. If you kill or steal, you get punished, locked up, possibly even executed. So, most people act civil to each other, not because of a conscience or any kind of B.S. like that, but because if they go acting like a damned idiot, they will be punished for it.

And again... that’s a generalization. Yeah, I know there are actual honestly good people in the world, selfless people that do the right thing just because its the right thing to do. I personally wasn’t raised that way... my dad was a right evil bastard himself, and the main lesson I learned from HIM before my powers emerged was to duck and cover, and try not to attract attention to myself. That as strong and as powerful as you might THINK you are, there is always someone stronger and more powerful just waiting to kick your ass. And even when I got my powers and made the old guy to fuck himself raw with a crowbar, I knew enough to hide my hand and stay under the radar.

Of course... everyone makes mistakes. Fast forward a few years. I was living the high life, a regular big shot. I drove expensive fancy cars that I didn’t pay for—just a little ‘nudge’ and the car dealer was more than happy to donate it to me free of charge. I ate at the finest restaurants, stayed for free in the nicest penthouse apartments, and of course, had all the female attention I could possibly hope for. Alas... that last one proved to be my downfall. You see, I’d gotten used to being able to make everyone do what I wanted. I’d gotten cocky. So when I saw this hot sexy young thing with this whole ‘Betty Page’ vibe going on, I tried to work my mojo on her.

‘Tried’, being the operative word.

Turns out, she was one of the city’s heroines, a noted one too named Robotica. Fun fact. Robotica can make herself look fully human with her weird technology crap, but she is one hundred percent robotic. Another fun fact. My powers of persuasion do not work on robots. And one last fun fact. Being kicked in the balls for pissing off a fully robotic woman by trying to turn her into your obedient sex slave hurts a whole hell of a lot! Long story short... I was arrested, locked up, and listed officially as a supervillain, meaning my face and powers were now known. There was now a file on me. And believe you me, in River City, you do NOT want the heroes and heroines watching you, peering down at you, keeping track of your misdeeds.

No problem. I did some time, a mere six months, and was released for good behavior, back onto the streets. Fine. I’d learned my lesson. My Philosophy teacher’s words ringing in the back of my mind, I decided it was time to behave myself, not because I was a GOOD guy or anything... but because jail SUCKED! And I wasn’t planning on going back there anytime soon.

The board members merely stared at me stoically, completely unmoved by my words. “And yet, you lasted an entire two weeks,” Ms. Chasen stated, her tone clipped, “before falling off the wagon and reverting to your previous ways again. Are you wanting some kind of an award, or congratulations for lasting that long?”

I sighed deeply, shaking my head. “Yer not understanding me. I’m saying I learned my lesson. I hadn’t PLANNED on using my powers to do any of the crap that happened. And I sure as HELL didn’t plan on having a full on orgy at some fraternity! I was honestly trying to be good!” I shrugged. “And frankly, that part, I SHOULD be congratulated for! Do you know how HARD it is not to simply zap the mind of anyone around me when they piss me off? I’m serious. River City is extremely biased unfairly against super villains.”

“What?!?” Chasen blinked, gaping at me. “Are you... you can’t be serious! You actually think you’ve been treated unfairly because you’re a criminal?!?”

“Exactly!” I said, surprising them all again. “Think about this. The city has a pretty good and established support system in place for victims of evil mind controllers in this city. Psychologists, psychiatrists, counselors, support groups... hell, it’s even become something of a widespread joke among the criminal element now, claiming ‘I didn’t mean to rob that bank, I must have been brainwashed into it’.” I shook my head ruefully. “And there is where it starts. The criminals, especially those with mind control abilities, have two strikes against them from the beginning! And it’s not as if the city has the best track record with actual reform. Tell me, Miss Chasen... how many criminals that have served their terms in jail have actually gone on to live crime-free lives? How many of us have actually been ‘rehabilitated’?”

I had the satisfaction of her and the other members of the board falling silent at that. It was a good point, too. I mean, I’d legitimately checked into that when I got out if there was any kind of support for mind controllers wanting to go legit. Or even just reformed criminals in general. But the result was pretty dismal. Most of the evil mind controllers I’d looked up had gone right back into villainy, trying to reclaim what they’d lost, or even moving to a new city to set up shop again where no one knew who they were. And the very few who hadn’t, who had actually reformed, had become heroes or heroines in their own right, fighting to stop the others.

There was only one side or the other. Staying neutral, and not using one’s powers at all was pretty much impossible. Not to make light of others with addictions to drugs or alcohol, but power itself is a damned hard addiction to kick! I was caught between the proverbial rock and a hard place. I was too wimpy, and frankly, too selfish, to become a hero, and use my mind powers for someone else’s benefit. Hey, I’m man enough to admit my shortcomings. But, I also have no wish to go back to jail. I cannot stress this enough: PRISON SUCKS! Forget those shows on HBO or Showtime or Netflix. There’s nothing glamorous about being in prison. It just... sucks. Six months was more than enough time to drive that point home.

“Anyway,” I said after a brief pause, “there’s more to my story. You haven’t even heard how I ended up in that situation in the first place.”

“Very well,” the third board member, a redheaded woman in a navy blue business suit and skirt, Ms. Anderson, replied in a bored tone. “But can you, like, please get to the point. This meeting has gone on way longer than expected. Finish your story, so we can, like, make our ruling and go. I have things to do.”

Merely nodding, I took a deep breath and thought back about the events of the previous week.

Basically, life as a ‘reformed’ convict sucks. Not quite as much as actually being in jail, but pretty close. If that seems strange, let me clarify. Former criminals are always looked down on. You can’t trust a criminal. And how do you know he or she is actually reformed, and not just ‘faking it’, biding his or her time until they can catch you unaware? That’s pretty much the public mindset. And that mindset makes it FUCKING impossible to get a good job after you’ve been convicted of a crime. Particularly a crime involving mind control.

So... after being released, my oh-so-helpful parole officer, Miss Caldwell, arranged for me to do janitorial work for various low key businesses around the city. Yeah... from the king of the hill to a glorified trashman. A real ‘crap job’ if ever there was on. But, it was all I had, so I made the best of it. Because, since I wasn’t using my powers anymore, I sure as hell wasn’t staying at the Hilton penthouse suite anymore. And the little hole in the wall apartment I’d found cost the majority of my pitiful paycheck, leaving me with just enough left over to afford cheap take out from the Chinese food place across the street from my new home.

Did I mention that I am not a fan of Chinese food? But heck, when you get hungry enough, you’ll scarf down pretty much anything and not complain. Or... well, at least, not until after you’re done eating. But I digress.

My home sucked. My job sucked. My boss, a real tight ass Mexican guy with a really thick accent, named Julio, sucked. And probably jerked off at night from the knowledge of having a nice blonde haired, blue eyed white boy like me to boss around. Seriously... of the twelve of us working the night shift, I was given the worst jobs every time. Dusting or sweeping the offices? Emptying the trash? Even cleaning windows or moping the floors? Nope! Not me! Good ol’ Kent gets to clean the goddamn bathrooms—and not the executive bathrooms, nope, just the public ones on the lower floors. And for a bunch of high-class businesses, let me tell you this—I’ve been in cleaner truck stop bathrooms!

And heaven help me if they weren’t sparkling clean by the time I was done! Ol’ Julio would start muttering in rapid-fire Spanish that I couldn’t understand, pointing at some spot underneath the edge of the mirror, or behind the toilet tank, or in between the grout of the tile work... always something, always some flaw in every fucking thing I did!

But... I endured. I didn’t snap. I didn’t use my powers. I just stood there and took the abuse, and cleaned up whatever he pointed out, and moved on. Not because I didn’t want to. Or because I’d actually reformed. Hell no. I didn’t fry that loudmouth bastard’s brains because I knew if I did it once, even something small, it would only be opening the floodgates. Trust me on this. It’s a slippery slope. And once the boulder is released, once it starts rolling downhill, it becomes unstoppable.

But, well... it takes a toll. Back in the old days, when I had a hard day, one of my ladies would be waiting there to comfort me... provide a bit of companionship, if you know what I mean...

sigh Okay, fine. To hell with semantics. Fucking! I would fuck the living daylights out of my brainwashed girls until I felt better! Happy now? Can I go on with the goddamn story? Thank you!! Ahem...

So... It was the end of the two weeks of hellacious, boring, tedious work. I was just getting off shift when one of the other workers, a guy named Tony, came up to me. “Hey, man, ’sup?” he asked as I was changing into my street clothes in the locker room. “You doing okay?”

I shrugged. “Meh... been better. But I guess I can’t complain too much.” Tony was a pretty good guy. We’d talked in passing a few times. He was one of the few people there that didn’t automatically shun me for being white or being a former criminal. Not that we spent time actually talking much. We both had different assignments most time and only met in passing. Still, he wasn’t a bad guy.

Glancing around, making sure we were both alone, he added, “Yanno, man... I can’t believe how bad Julio is riding you! And he keeps giving you all the bullshit jobs! Before you came here, we’d rotate every day, so no one had to clean up shit every damn day...”

I winced at the reminder. “Yeah... I kinda figured he has it in for me. But, well, what can you do?” I shrugged again. As bad as it was, I did actually need this stupid bullshit job. At least until something better came along.

“You should totally complain to someone,” Tony continued, shaking his head. “I mean, I know you’re an ex-con and all, but you still have rights!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. It’s part of that spiel the police give you when they arrest you, about waiving your rights. Well, I pretty much waived my rights when I landed myself in this situation. I was pretty much at the mercy of fate, and whoever happened to be calling the shots at the time. A fact that I was reminded of, daily.

“Yeah, well, I need this job,” I told the guy, “so it’s probably better to just let it go. You know? Not rock the boat.”

“Yeah... guess so,” he said with a sigh. “You know, man? You should totally come hang out with me tonight! We’re both have the day off. I’m over at the University, at the Delta Upsilon frat house. We’re having a mixer. You should totally come by!”

I chuckled at that. I’d graduated from college about ten years earlier. Even though I was only thirty, I was too old to go hang out with college kids and party to the wee hours of the morning. “Thanks for the offer,” I told, him, closing my locker, and packing up the rest of my shit, “but I think I’m just gonna take it easy tonight. Maybe just stay at home and watch a movie.”

“Heh. Your loss, dude,” Tony replied, closing his own locker. “But the offer still stands.”

Like I said, nice kid. Not the kind of guy I would have hung out with back when I was his age or anything. Still, he did at least make an effort to reach out to me. And, well, I found out WHY a bit later... but let’s not get ahead of ourselves, right? I went home to my little hole in the wall, tired from a long night of cleaning and wiping and disinfecting... and who should I find waiting for me at my doorstep but Ms. Caldwell. My parole officer.

“We’ve got a serious problem,” she said, as a way of a greeting. Seriously. No ‘hi’ or ‘how are you doing?’ or ‘wow, you look tired after a long hard night of work, sorry to bother you’. With a small grunt, I moved past her, unlocked my door, and welcomed her in.

“You’ll have to forgive the decor,” I quipped as she moved to my small second-hand couch, then, thinking better of it, decided to stand. “The maid only comes by on Tuesdays.”

“Cute,” she replied without humor, pulling out a small notepad. “First, I need to inform you that this is an official notification visit and that I am operating under strict MCI protocols.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered in response, walking into the kitchenette, opening the small fridge, poking around for something to eat for breakfast. And... of course, settling on cold Chinese take-out from across the street. Which, frankly, was actually better reheated.

I should also probably explain the MCI thing, in case you board members are unfamiliar. The Mind Control Initiative protocols basically state that prior to any visit to a known or registered mind controller, the officer will notify the appropriate people, generally their coworkers and other close or knowledgable persons, as well as setting up an appointment with a trusted, police-issued, deprogrammer, usually a hypnotist or psychic, to check them out afterwards, just to make sure the mind controller didn’t leave behind any nasty little surprises during the visit. Furthermore, the visits are very specifically timed, and the officer carries a GPS tracker, in case they ‘mysteriously vanish’ under unknown circumstances. And if any of these protocols are violated, the mind controller in questions is targeted and apprehended post-haste, and usually with extreme prejudice.

All of this had been explained to me in detail, so I would know not to try anything funny. Which I wouldn’t have anyway. You know, reforming and all that. Still, it was extremely annoying for Miss Personality to point that out to me every single visit. Of which, there were probably way more than were officially sanctioned. But again, I digress...

“Okay, so what’s the issue THIS time?” I asked, pouring some stir fry a clean-ish bowl, and sliding it into the microwave.

“Your work supervisor, Mr. Chavez, filed another official complaint about you,” the snarky blonde stated, peering at her notes. “Fifth one in two weeks, it seems. Generally poor work attitude, inadequate work ethic, insubordination, talking back...”

I growled softly. “The same thing he says every time, almost word for word,” I reminded her. “And I’ll say the same thing I said the last four times—the guy has it out for me. I’m doing the jobs he assigns me, and I’m putting up with his bullshit, even with a smile on my face. He provokes me every single day, and since I don’t respond to his baiting, he files an official complaint.” The microwave pinged, and I opened it, taking out my steaming bowl of... well, ‘mostly food’. “I’m sure a smart girl like you can figure that out.”

“Woman,” she corrected me, eyes narrowed, either at my choice of words or my choice of breakfast. “And there’s something additional added into the complaint this time. It seems an executive at one of the offices you cleaned yesterday reported the theft of a rather expensive gold Rolex that was left in his desk drawer. And Mr. Chavez is all but accusing you of being the thief.”

“WHAT?!?” I yelled. “I didn’t steal anything! Hell, I don’t even get access to the private offices! He always sticks me with bathroom cleaning! This is bullshit!”

“So... you deny taking it, then?” she asked coolly.

“Fucking hell YES I deny it!” I shot back, insulted. “I might not exactly be living it up here in the lap of luxury,” I stated, gesturing to the apartment, “but I’m not stupid enough to steal a damn watch. For one thing, those things are ridiculously hard to fence... even pawn shops these days want some kind of ID or registration, both of which would lead back to me. And Rolex, smolex... you wouldn’t get enough money off of it to make it even worth your while!”

Veronica Caldwell smiled, a thin twisting of lips and baring of teeth. “Spoken just like a true criminal,” she said blithely. “But worthwhile or not, Chavez goes on to report that the watch was found during a thorough search of the property earlier this morning inside YOUR work locker.”

I nearly dropped my bowl of almost-food. “My locker! Oh, come on!” I protested. “He’s setting me up! You HAVE to know that! I’ve even got a witness that was with me in the locker room before I left. He can testify that my locker was completely empty when we both left this morning!”

That got her attention. “A witness? And it’s one of your coworkers?”

“Yeah. His name is Tony. We walked out together.” I sighed deeply. “That lousy stinking bastard... I can’t believe he’s just trying to get me fired!”

“More than fired,” Ms. Caldwell said, staring me down. “If it’s proven that you actually DID steal that watch, you’ll have violated your parole. You’ll be sent right back to jail to serve out the rest of your full term.” I swallowed at that, going pale. “In the meantime, I’m going to follow up with this ‘Tony’ you mentioned.” She walked to the door. “Let’s hope for your sake that backs up your claims.” Then she left.

And suddenly, I didn’t have much of an appetite... so I tossed the reheated slop into the garbage and just went to bed.

Oh. And, just for the record, I want it noted that I was telling the truth. I did not steal that guy’s watch. It came out in the investigation that Julio had swiped it himself and planted it in my locker to get me sacked. Not that it much mattered in the end. I still got fired, or ‘let go’ as the janitorial service put it. They were nice enough to call me and let me know later that evening when I woke up again... they wanted to ‘avoid any hint of impropriety’, so basically, they cut Julio and me loose, claiming the company itself had nothing to do with the matter between us.

There’s tossing you under the bus, and then there’s painting white lines on you and parking a group of them on top of you.

sigh Welp... with no job, no way to make ends meet, virtually no social life whatsoever, and with the prospect of ending up back in jail again for something that wasn’t even my fault... I decided to take Tony up on his offer and headed down to the University. And before any of you start making accusations about wanting to go out in a blaze of glory, believe me when I say that was STILL the farthest thing from my mind! All I wanted was to socialize a bit, hang out with the only friend I had, and drown my sorrows in a few beers.

Yeah, I know. Kind of sad, a thirty-year-old guy hanging out with a bunch of college kids. But, well, I didn’t have anything else going on. Besides which, I knew Delta Upsilon from my own college days, even though I never joined myself. They were pretty laid back, not nearly the party animals that some of the OTHER frats were. And I wasn’t looking to get wasted or anything. All I wanted was a nice mellow atmosphere to chill out and drink in peace.

What I found was... well... heh, I guess it was pretty much the recipe for the wild unbridled orgy that it turned into. The simple ‘mixer’ had apparently morphed into a full-blown party, complete with loud music, and lots and lots of women and booze. I actually stood outside the house, watching the windows vibrate from the music, seeing the scantily clad babes dancing and gyrating to said music, and considered turning around and heading back home. But, as I already stated, there was nothing waiting for me at my apartment. And even if this was a bit out of my comfort zone, it was probably the only bit of fun I was going to have for a long time. So I said, screw it, and walked right inside.

I’ll admit it. I was a bit intimidated when I first walked in. I didn’t know anybody there, and I was at least a good seven to ten years older than all of them. I kind of expected someone to look at me like I was a narc and toss me out of my ear. But just as I was starting to rethink my decision, a loud familiar voice called out my name. “HEY! Kent, buddy!” Tony called out, coming downstairs with a pair of women in short shorts and belly shirts following behind him. “You came! Excellent! Hey, guys, he came! This is the guy I was telling you about!”

I froze at that, suddenly very uncomfortable as everyone focused their attention on me. “Ummm...” I said, glancing around. Strangely enough, instead of anger or accusatory glances, the guys all looked at me in... awe? Or respect? Totally thrown for a loop, I looked to Tony, who quickly explained. As it turned out, he’d done some digging and learned about my exploits before I’d been arrested. And, considering that I’d attended this college several years before, the frat guys considered me as some kind of ‘local legend’, a real life ‘playa’, and party animal extraordinaire. It was kind of weird to think that I had ‘fans’, especially since I was little more than a glorified villain, but well, their perspective was a bit skewed,

At any rate, after a couple of beers, I loosened up enough that I started talking. I told the gang about my powers, that I could basically usurp the will of those around me. And I told them how it worked, how I could make people give me money, or free cars, or anything, and not think anything about it, how I made my old man fuck himself silly with a crowbar, which they all thought was freaking hilarious. And then Tony asked the question that started things down a dark path.

“So, like, what I don’t get,” he said as I finished my third beer, tossing the empty into the bin, “is why you let that son of a bitch Julio talk to you like that. I mean, damn... if I had your powers, I’d have made that fuckin’ prick clean all those bathrooms himself... with his tongue!” Several others nodding, cheering. “So, like, why didn’t you put him in his place?”

“Hey, it’s not like I didn’t wanna... but fuck, I’m an ex-con,” I told him with a shrug. “I start any shit and I end up back in jail. And jail is no fun. It’s bad enough if yer a normal guy... but supervillain jail is much worse! The technology shuts down your powers, but if yer six feet tall, four hundred pounds of muscle, and have a chip on your shoulder, then powers don’t really matter.” I felt no need to share with them an encounter I’d had with such an individual, a black guy ironically named ‘Tiny’, who had a penchant for buggery and verbal abuse. ’Nuff said.

“Okay, I get that,” one of the girls, Jessica, remarked. “But, like, why not use your powers for other things? You know.... to make your life easier? Why put up with a jerk like that when you could go anywhere else and do whatever you wanted?”

“Naw. I couldn’t do that. Besides,” I continued with a sigh. “It’s a slippery slope. You start messing with people’s heads, making them do whatever you want... it gets addictive. It’s hard to stop. And, well... I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, yanno? Don’t wanna be a supervillain. Just wanna be a normal guy...”

“Meh... normal’s overrated, dude,” Zack, one of the Delta Upsilon’s replied. Several of the others chuckled.

Sighing softly, I stood up and walked to the kitchen, searching for another beer. And that’s when the shit hit the fan. You see, several of the young ladies were drinking some punch from a large glass bowl. And, for convenience sake, I eschewed the beer and grabbed a cup myself. Unfortunately, the punch had been spiked. And no, I don’t mean with gin or vodka. See, Delta Upsilon had a supply of this new drug that was slowly making the college scene called ‘NEO’. Its a combination of Naproxen, Ecstacy, and Orbweaver, in a very specific ratio. I have no idea who came up with it, or how they even thought to combine them... but the upshot is that it lowers a person’s inhibitions, and makes you horny as all fuck. The perfect way to spice up a party and get some of the ‘more discerning’ female partygoers into a better mood.

Mind you, I found all this out after the fact. At the time, all I knew was that the punch tasted really good... and I really REALLY wanted to get laid. As I stood there, just drinking, and thinking deep thoughts, Jessica, the girl from other walked in and poured herself a cup as well. “You know, Kent,” she said, before taking a deep drink herself, “I don’t think you’re a bad guy. Just misunderstood. There are plenty of bad guys out there, really evil dudes, that kill and maim people, that go around destroying or trying to take over the world... but you, you were just about having a good time.” She drained her glass. “I just wanted to say, you should loosen up a bit. Have some fun! There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Loosen up... have some fun... nothing wrong with that...

Innocent sounding words. But in my totally fucked up state, they sounded like the best goddamn advice I’d ever received. And really... what was the harm? I’d already lost my job, and my bitch of a parole officer was just looking for an excuse to send me back to the slammer. So, why NOT have a little fun? And, yeah, there was the steadily increasing arousal to deal with. Tossing aside the empty cup, I turned to face her. “You know what? You’re fucking right! This is a party, after all, right? So... why not go for it?” I stared at her, and for the first time in ages, focused my powers. “Kiss me,” I said simply.

Jessica’s eyes widened, then glazed slightly as she moved into me, parting her lips, pressing them to mine, giving me a deep sensual kiss that did nothing to curb my arousal, instead of pushing it higher. “Ooohhh... wow,” she said, breathlessly after we broke the kiss. “So... that’s what it feels like! Ever since Tony told us who you were I wondered what it would feel like to have someone crush my will and force me to do something that way.” She licked her lips. “It was even hotter than I imagined!”

I blinked, staring at her in disbelief. “Wait... you liked having me control you that way?”

She nodded vigorously. “Fuck yeah! It’s one of my naughty little kinks.... yanno? BDSM, power play, hypnosis and mind control... I’ll really into it! But roleplay is nothing like the real thing! You should totally do use your powers more!”

Grinning, I decided to again follow her really great sounding advice. “Great. Then, since you enjoy it so much... become my slave. My complete and total slave.” I felt the tiny prickling along my skull as my power activated, sending a small shudder through the cute sexy coed. I hadn’t used those words on a girl in ages, since my arrest. Even then, I’d felt slightly guilty about it, poked by my conscience slightly for turning an innocent person into my plaything. But with this stuff in my system, I didn’t feel ANY sense of shame or guilt. Hell, it felt good. Really good. Like having a cramp in your leg while you’re in a crowded car, unable to stretch out, and finally, FINALLY, being able to get out and stretch again.

“Mmmm... oh, Master,” Jessica purred softly, staring up at me with complete and total devotion. “What can I do for you? Please... give me another command. Anything! I just... I need to obey you! Please!”

Her words sent a thrill racing through me, and my cock was already an iron bar before she’d even come into the kitchen. So... she wanted a command? I had one for her. “Strip out of those slutty clothes,” I told her, unzipping my pants, “kneel before me.... and suck me off!”

“Oooh! Yes, Master!” she replied eagerly, virtually ripping her clothing in her haste to obey me. In mere seconds, she was kneeling naked on the kitchen floor, sucking my cock with the most intense and enthusiastic blowjob I’d ever had... up to that point, anyway. The fact that she was fully naked in a crowded house, sucking a stranger she’d only met a few hours ago didn’t bother her the least. Again, after the fact, realizing that she, like the other girls, and myself, was high on NEO, it makes perfect sense. But at the time, all I cared about was that this girl was really into being controlled. I commanded her to play with herself as she sucked, and to cum when I did, which only spurred her on more. We were both having the time of our lives... but well, you know. Crowded house after all... it was only a matter of time before someone else walked into the kitchen.

“JESSIE?!?” a tall willowy redhead yelled out, startling us. “What the FUCK are you doing?!? And why are you naked?” She turned and glared at me. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“I made her into my slave,” I said, still grinning, trying not to show my ‘O’ face as I neared the finish line. “And.... you know what? You’re my slave too. Strip, bitch!”

The girl, whose name I never really got, shuddered, then sighed softly, her will shattered by my powers. “Ugghnn... y-yes... strip for Master...” she murmured, slowing taking off her clothes. She wasn’t nearly as into it as Jess, obviously, but again, I didn’t really give a fuck. I was about to release about two weeks worth of sexual tension into this young sexy naked girl’s mouth. Nothing else mattered. And as I finally let loose with a torrent of sexual ecstasy, setting off the girl’s orgasm as well, I finally noticed the audience I’d attracted. The frat brothers staring through the doorway let out a loud cheer, clapping as I stumbled back, pants around my ankles.

“Woohoo! Yeah! Way to give it to her, man!” one of the guys yelled out. “We knew you had it in you!”

I laughed. “Yeah... well now it’s IN Jessica,” I quipped, ruffling the lovely girl’s hair. I frowned, blearily. I was still drunk, and tripping balls, so logic wasn’t exactly my strong suit. “Hey... what’s up with you guys, anyway?” I asked. “Why aren’t you guys like.... yanno, gettin’ yer rocks off as well? This is a party, ain’t it?”

“Yeah, true dat,” an older Delta U -named Reggie, admitted, “but we don’t have any special powers like you. And it’ll take a hell of a lot of booze to get all these girls in the mood to put out...”

I laughed again, shaking my head. “Well, luckily, you have ME in your corner. Ladies... all of you... strip now!” I commanded, letting loose with my powers again. Several brief shouts of protest went up as all of the women in attendance began pulling off their clothes. The Deltas gaped at me in shock for a moment, before cheering again, loudly.

“Whoaa! All right! They’re actually doing it!” Reggie yelled. “Dude, that is so freaking cool! You, like, totally usurped their will!”

“Heh... ‘Usurped’, eh? I kinda like it,” I chuckled. “For a bunch of party guys, you have a pretty good vocabulary. So... anything else I should ‘usurp’ while I’m at it?”

“Yeah! Make ’em wanna fuck!” another Delta named Jack shouted. Before any of the girls could voice their complaints, however, I acted.

“You heard the man. All of you ladies here are deeply turned on and wanna fuck! Need to fuck. Absolutely want to cum with one of these fine outstandin’ men. So... get to it!”

What could I say? I owed the guys for taking me in and lifting my spirits. Getting them all laid was the least I could do. Of course... drunken, high-as-balls me, I wasn’t exactly precise or clear with my commands. I’d basically turned all the women there into a horde of horny sluts, all desperate to cum with a Delta by ANY means necessary. I hadn’t really specified who or how, so within a few seconds, mass chaos erupted. Several girls started fighting over the same guy, a few aggressively tackling and forcefully stripping one kid, desperate to have him inside them... and one girl, taking my words literally, had simply picked a nearby guy and was simply humping his leg, screaming out in pleasure, cumming as long as she was physically with him.

I shrugged. They were big boys. They could figure it out.

But, as you can guess, having a wild unscheduled and unsanctioned sex fest suddenly break out in the middle of the main room of a fraternity house would naturally attract some attention. First with one of the neighboring sororities, as soon of their members came over to complain about the noise and the fact that the windows were uncovered. Then several members of the faculties, some of which had heard about the issue, and one or two that just happened to be driving by. Then campus security. Then, of course, the eventual call to the police, when all other avenues had been exhausted.

Everyone that came by was merely absorbed into the group.

Really. It was kind of like a human Katamari Damacy thing, Any attractive women that showed up, I’d zap them and make them strip and join in on the sexual antics. Any guys, I pretty much did the same, just with the added suggestion that they didn’t mind what was happening and just wanted to join in. Really, it was mostly a blur there at the end. Whenever I got tired or dehydrated, one of my girl-slaves would bring me more punch, which just reignited my fire and lead to even worse impulse control. I recall at the end, I was pretty much standing naked outside the house, picking random hot girls as they walked by, making them come into the house and join the group. All the while the frat boys were cheering me on. “Usurp her! Usurp her! Usurp her!”

And, well. that’s where the nickname came from. I never called myself that, by the way, it was you guys that came up with it. And, to clarify, they were yelling ‘usurp her’ not ‘Usurper’. But it’s not bad as far as supervillain names go. I’ve heard worse.

I stretched a bit, taking the bottle of water from the table. “And that’s pretty much where the story end,” I told the board members. “At some point that night I finally passed out. I woke up the next day with a raging hangover, a migraine the size of Texas, no clothes, covered in cum, vomit, stale beer and punch... and more vomit. Back in college, I would have called that a good time, but ten years older and not quite as resilient, I was pretty much done in. And, unfortunately, that was when I noticed what had woken me out of my stupor to begin with—the half dozen rather angry policemen, glaring down at me, with their weapons drawn.”

“I see,” Ms. Chasen replied with a deep sigh. “So your assertation is that you committed all those heinous acts because you were under the influence of drugs and alcohol?” He expression darkened. “Even if that happens to be the case, that does not excuse your actions any more than it excuses a drunken driver that gets into a car accident! The situation was caused by your poor choices, plain and simple. By your own admission, if you had not been drinking in the first place, things would not have escalated! Whether or not that punch was spiked with some strange drug isn’t as much the point as the fact that you should have never been in that situation, to begin with!”

I nodded at that, scratching at my neck again. Goddamn itchy collar! I was now almost positive the damn thing had been treated with latex. “You’re right. Absolutely right. I made a bad choice.” I shrugged. “Wasn’t the first time. And it probably won’t be the last. But you know what? Right now... I’m choosing to bring this whole stupid farce to an end.” I snapped my fingers, and Veronica Caldwell, my parole officer, walked over and unlocked the manacles, to the surprise of the parole board. “And take this goddamn collar off as well. This fucking thing is giving me a rash!”

“Yes, Master,” she said contritely, as she unhooked it. “I’m so sorry.”

“Wh... wha... what is this?!?” Ms. Chasen yelled, getting to her feet. “Ms. Caldwell, what are you doing?” She glanced at the two guards, who merely stood there placidly, letting this happen. “You there! Why aren’t you stopping this?!?”

“Isn’t it obvious by now?” I asked, rubbing my freed wrists and scratching at my newly exposed neck. Ahhhh... yes! That’s the spot! “I’ve ‘usurped’ their will. I broke them down and made them obedient to my will.

“B... but how?” she asked, eyes wide. “The collar... it’s supposed to inhibit your powers—”

“Oh, it does,” I told her, grinning evilly. “When it’s turned on, that is.” She gasped in shock. “You see, after I was arrested and brought in, I did some thinking. And I don’t know whether it was the lingering effects of the NEO in my system, or if I’d just had a bit of an epiphany last night, but I realized that what I’d been doing the past two weeks since my release from jail was actually just another type of prison. Limiting myself, restraining my urges, putting up with all the BULLSHIT from arrogant little pricks and cunts like you? No. I wasn’t going back to that. So, when I was being transported, I made my move right then and there. I usurped the guards’ wills. Then the officer escorting me to and from these stupid hearings. And then, when I was alone with her, my dear parole officer as well,” I glanced at Veronica, who glanced down at her feet, blushing.

“Ever since then, whenever I am transported out of my power-draining cell, and one of those stupid collars is put on, the power is left deactivated. Which of course, leaves me free to use my powers without complications.” I smirked, gesturing to Ms. Caldwell, as her eyes glazed over, and she and the other board members began stripping out of her clothes. “Hell, in the preliminary hearing, I actually laid the groundwork for this little meeting. Of course, none of you remember that... or at least not until just now. And honestly, I wasn’t even going to use it, unless you all proved to be so insufferably unreasonable and unyielding. I was FUCKING drugged! Not just drunk, but drugged. And I didn’t choose to partake. Fuck... if I’d known the punch was spiked with that shit, I would have keep drinking beer. Then I would have eventually gone back to my crappy little apartment and cried myself to sleep.” I sighed softly. “But... that didn’t happen. And now, here we all are.”

I stood up, and walked to the door, with Ms. Caldwell following along behind me. I knew all too well what was about to happen back inside the room. And while a nice orgy is always entertaining, Ms. Chasen was frankly too old and wrinkly for my tastes, the men held no appeal whatsoever, and the younger girl, Ms. Anderson, was a total bitch. Besides, I had other things to do.

“So, did you find what I asked for?” I question my parole officer as we walked to her car.

“Yes, Master,” she replied, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket, handing it to me. “It wasn’t hard to find his address. Considering that he was directly involved in your current situation, and part of an ongoing investigation, the janitorial office was more than happy to provide a home address.” She gestured to the back seat. “It was actually harder to find the second thing you wanted, Master. But I did manage to obtain that as well.”

I grinned wickedly, glancing at the shiny new crowbar sitting in the middle of Ms. Caldwell’s back seat. “Perfect. Now then, my dear, let’s go. I feel like paying my old friend Julio a visit. And considering all the times he fucked me over these past two weeks, I think it’s only fair that I return the favor...”