The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Orange: a bright color, a color of sunshine, sweet fruit and building, a color that once seemed like every other in the world. But that color would lead me into a life I could never even have dreamed of, a life based on an ability most find strange, mystical, impossible, or just plain scary.

My name is Cara. I was a normal girl with brown hair and cute enough features that got me my fair share of dates and one-night stands, but never a lasting relationship. I had just finished my junior year, another semester of straight Bs, and was spending the summer the same way I had the last three: transitioning from part time to full time at the warehouse store to save up for next year. But everything started to change forever that first day in late May.

I was good at my job, as much of a job as it was; I went from shelf stocker to assistant manager to running the little hardware department shift and managing a crew of five clerks in just two summers of full-time work. I never considered myself a bossy person, but everyone I worked with did exactly what they were told to do with no backtalk. Looking back, that should have been a clue, but I always thought I was just assertive and had good people. This time, I was in charge of making the seasonal hires for my department. I thought it was a joke, but the store manager told me that because I ran such a tight ship, the corporate office was looking to fast-track me into upper management when I finished college, and that he would be giving me more responsibility to see if I could make this job a career. It paid good money, but I had no interest in being a shopkeeper for the rest of my life. Still, the extra responsibility meant extra hours, which meant extra money, and it was nice to have a fallback plan while I searched for something in my field.

Sitting in a back room that reeked of illicit cigarettes and bad coffee, listening to assorted losers attempting to make themselves sound like real winners, though, I started to have second thoughts. And then she walked in and the change began. She was a skater girl with bright orange hair that matched her tight tank top. She wore baggy black jeans with a wide orange belt and orange sneakers, but the first thing I noticed was her face. Her eyes were wide and glassy, her expression blank and even. I didn’t know then what I know now- when I first saw her, I just thought she was higher than a kite.

“Oh, great, what a time for a druggie to show up! Just what I don’t need right now! What’s the procedure? Oh, right, humor them and conduct the interview normally, then mention the drug test and let them run off on their own. This way you don’t create a scene or risk a fight with someone who’s in an altered mental state,” I muttered to myself as she filled out the application with blazing speed- yet, as I saw when she gave it to me, picture perfect handwriting. She turned on a dime and sat back down in the fourth chair, behind the three people who’d come in before her. With every passing interview she slid over to the next chair, exactly as the sign directed, a sign no one ever bothered to read.

And then came time for her interview as I read her name off the application.

“Ashley Blake? This way, please,” I said. She got up and followed me step for step and sat down right where she was supposed to.

“So what makes you want to work for Drew’s Discount Den warehouses?” I asked.

Her reply came out absently, almost as if she was daydreaming, but the words were on point. She had no pretenses, and everything she said had a certain profound air of persuasion behind it that stuck with me in the back of my head, hinting at quiet confidence. “I need money for college. I’m looking to start next semester, and I need to pay for books, food, and housing,” she said, her distant and blank expression never changing.

It was like this the entire interview- though, okay, I spent more time trying to guess what drug she was on than thinking about her answers. I’d concluded downers by the time I had to mention the drug test policy. Her answer startled me.

“Where, when, and what doctor? Or would you like it here and now so you can mail it to a lab?” Ashley asked, clearly expecting this.

“How do you know all of this?” I finally said, because I had to know how she knew everything about the store and its policies. I didn’t even know half of it!

“It’s on the application, on the bottom of the disclaimer box,” Ashley started- and then she recited, from memory, the fine print that no one, not even I, read. She’d forced my hand- now I had to find the proper procedure for drug testing.

By the time I had, Ashley was gone. I figured she ran, like all the other addicts, but when I stepped out of the break room, I saw her waiting by the bathroom for the proper administrators to show. Perfectly proper. I called for two of the female floor workers to observe, as was procedure: one would be inside to make sure she wasn’t tampering, while the other would guard the door to avoid any slight of hand with the bottles.

“You mean I have to go into the stall with this creep!” Alisa said angrily. She was my top seller, but mainly because construction workers appreciate a little dose of eye candy while they’re shopping for tools. She was a stereotypical blonde- her tan, slender body was a result of skipped meals and tanning beds as much as it was exercise, and there was nothing upstairs except concern for herself and what she could get out of the world. The idea obviously grossed her out, but I wasn’t letting her weasel out of it. I just kept staring at her, letting my impatience show, until she said, “Fine. I’ll keep an eye on the little creep so we can get this done and her out of our hair.”

When they were done, Alisa looked like she had seen a ghost, and I figured she was being a drama queen about having to be in a bathroom stall with another woman. As she headed toward my desk with the specimen, Ashley looked at her, seeming a little disturbed, and Alisa jumped back like she’d been burned. Okay, then. I just thought that Ashley wasn’t happy about having someone else handle her pee, but then she recited to the letter the procedure for sending out the test to the lab, right down to the correct postal code, suite number and department to send it attention to.

I’d been turning her over in my head all through the interview, in between drug theories, and there was something I couldn’t put my finger on until she pulled out another piece of information. Of course! She was a genius and a speed-reader. Unprofessional as it was, I started wishing that the tiny, tiny chance that she wasn’t high would come through so I could hire her, but I said nothing as she walked out as blankly as she came in.

I should have known something was up right after the interview. Alisa was a self-absorbed bitch who hated everyone who wasn’t her. The only reason I kept her around was because I sold hardware and had construction workers to sell to, and, well, I’ve already mentioned how much they liked her. She kept them coming back for their basic supplies. So I was shocked first when she stalked over to my desk, looked at me long and hard, and asked me crisply, “Did you hire Ashley yet?”

“Who?” I asked, scrambling to pick out a name from the 100 applicants I had seen this week.

“The chick you made pee in a cup? Who you made me watch pee in a cup? If I have to put up with something like that, you better make it worth the effort! Besides, I found out she’s awesome and you’d be an idiot not to hire her- oh, wait—”

“You’re coming close to the line, Alisa,” I reminded her sternly. “You complain about everyone we bring in, so why do you care who it is? If you must know, I’m recommending we do bring her in if her test comes back clean. She has a very good memory and follows directions, unlike some people I manage.” I finished with the trademarked death glare that sent her scurrying back to work without a second thought, a trick I’d perfected over the years here.

Three days later I got the call from the lab. Not only was Ashley drug-free, she didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, and kept a healthy diet. I didn’t realize you could learn so much from a pee test, but I never was one for hanging out with the bio nerds. No drugs, and she wasn’t pregnant. I dug out her application and called the number listed to let her know that she could start the next day at nine in the morning. Her cell went to voicemail, and I’d never heard a message quite like it.

“You have tried to summon me, but I have been summoned to a different task. Please state your task and I will attend to it after my previous task has been completed,” Ashley’s voice read on the recording, more distant sounding than ever. I considered going back on my decision and hanging up, but decided against it. She was probably a gamer- come to think of it, that would explain most of her weirdness- so I left the message, but heard nothing back from her until the next morning.

Having not heard from her, or from HR, I figured she was a no-show, and the idea sent me into a funk. But when morning came around, there she was, standing between Alisa and Keith, wearing her red apron, her cheery little nametag, a white polo, and khaki pants. I hadn’t even brought up the uniform- how did she know? Usually, that only comes up on the first day, along with the mountain of paperwork needed to get things rolling and the store tour. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when she handed me all the proper forms, all filled out in triplicate and signed by the proper personnel.

“Not that I mind, but how did you know?” I asked, startled.

“I prepared myself after you summoned me so I could be fully ready and able to complete my assigned task at the proper time,” Ashley explained. Her voice was a little less out there than it’d been during the interview- Mars, not Pluto.

“Oh, you came in yesterday to do your paperwork? Good thinking. In that case, you can jump right in. Inventory needs to be done and we’ve got deliveries coming in later. Keith will show you the ropes.” Immediately, she turned her full attention to Keith, who was more than willing to show her around. Didn’t surprise me much, though. Keith was to frat boys what Alisa was to blondes- a walking, grunting stereotype.

Ashley settled in quickly, which helped relieve the strain- this was the busiest summer I’d ever seen at the Den. In this seller’s market, everyone seemed to be buying this and that to make their house a little more valuable. My team was working better than ever. Even Alisa had really shaped up. She was working her tail off. Every day she paid more and more attention to what I was saying. I could tell she was actually listening to my product descriptions and sale prices, and trying to upsell critical products instead of just leading customers to the items they wanted and using her… assets… to cement the sale as she climbed the ladder to get the boxes down.

I should have noticed something about that, but I was too busy and thrilled at being the top seller in the store. I didn’t even notice at the time that Alisa was spending more and more time with Ashley and even picking up some of her quirks. Keith had to bring it to my attention.

“You think if I asked Ashley real nice she’d let me tape her and Alisa?” he asked one day in the break room.

I burst into laughter. “Alisa? And Ashley? Alisa? She of the thousand boyfriends? Save your fantasies for your beer buddies, man. You know she’d only dive into someone shallower than she is, and we’ve both said it a million times, if you dive into Alisa, be prepared for brain damage due to shallow water. Ashley’s got better taste than that. She’s been a good influence on her, yeah, both as a person and as an employee. Maybe you should hang out with them more. You could learn a thing or two.”

“Yeah, Ashley is freakin’ amazing. You see her doing inventory? She’s like Goddamn Superman or something. If she weren’t so shy, she’d be a kickass sales associate,” he said. He almost sounded worshipful talking about her. Seriously, she of the “sleep is for mere mortals” stare and space cadet voice would be a good salesperson?

“You want in her pants, you should talk to her like that, not me,” I said. “Or did she already shoot you down? Or did Alisa shoot you down again?”

“Did I say that? Dude, I just couldn’t help but notice that they’ve gotten attached at the hip. I think it’s kinda cool. Alisa used to be a flaming bitch, now she’s just… flaming, I guess. She should be proud of it if she is. Besides, all her old tricks times two? If she gets Ashley in on it? Oh, baby, think of how fast the sales would go up!”

Believe it or not, this was sensitive for Keith. None of his business, too. “You’re not interested in the sales going up, are you? They’re not gonna do a girl-girl show for your benefit, so lay off it and get back to work.” And that was the end of that.

It’s funny how little things happen and how you don’t connect them. Strange things, inexplicable things that you think you can rationalize. Like Alisa fawning over Ashley, and then approaching me early one afternoon.

“Can you call Maria to cover for me after three? I have a really important date tonight. I have to get ready to be picked up here at five, so I need the extra time,” Alisa said. She obviously had a hot date planned, because her bra was showing through her shirt. Tacky, but it got customers’ attention, so I’d always let her get away with it. It wasn’t always Day-Glo orange, though, and she hadn’t pulled that stunt in a couple of weeks. I was ready to pull out Assistant Manager Lecture #17 about responsibility over pleasure and how important she was to the team when she was actually there, but she seemed different from before. This actually sounded like it mattered to her. Keith’s concern was still fresh in my mind, and as emphatic as Alisa’s words were, her voice was damn near as spacey as Ashley’s usually was. Okay, Alisa had become more obedient, calm, and productive as of late, but no one would mistake her for Ashley. I still leaned towards telling her no, but at that moment, Ashley came by with a cart full of returns to reshelve and watched us both for a moment.

Oh, what could it hurt? Alisa’s demographic didn’t usually come in this late, and she wasn’t much use on the floor otherwise. “Give me more notice next time,” I told her. “But all right. Go get yourself dolled up.”

Alisa left at three on the nose and came back at five on the dot. I was in the parking lot, fumbling with my keys when the taxi swept in and dropped her off. She’d changed, all right, into a sparkling orange miniskirt and tank top with matching high heels and purse. She got out of the car and stood there waiting, as perfectly still as a life-size Barbie. I walked over to say hi, but a bright orange Camero pulled up and she got into it barely before it stopped. So that was her date. Interesting taste in colors. Very… orange. The car tore out of the lot so fast that it left afterimages, and I shrugged and headed to my car

It would be the last time anyone in the store would see Alisa again.