The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Bryce’s driver started up the car, to begin their drive. The restaurant had no further significance to Bryce; if Hallie had still been inside, it would have seemed like the most special place in all the world to him. But she had taken her wonderful presence away, had already gone on ahead of him and driven home; and so the restaurant was insignificant and forgotten once his driver pulled out of the parking lot and left it behind them.

They turned on to the street, and Bryce was filled with a sense of deep satisfaction. He felt so different now, and he was enjoying that. He’d felt different since meeting Hallie the first time, but he felt even more different now that they’d had their lunch. Hallie had kissed him— had spoken to him, told him the things that were important to her. Things that had become important to him, when he’d learned that they mattered so much to her. Things he had to do— things she wanted done.

Seeing her at the restaurant had cemented the new way that he’d been feeling lately, and the self he had been before was all but forgotten. He still knew where to find that self. It was tucked away in the back of his mind. He could pull him out if necessity demanded it; if there was something that he, the new self, needed and only the old self could get. But for now, there was no such need. He was only sitting there in the backseat of his car, as the new Bryce, feeling full of happiness. He liked the man he’d become— he thought he was much better now, like this; better than the old Bryce had ever been.

“Take me home,” Bryce spoke, after a moment, looking towards the front of the car when he did.

“Very good, sir,” his driver replied. But even as his driver was saying it, and changing their route to lead them back home, Bryce thought. He could barely remember what his home even looked like— all of that information belonged to the old Bryce, and that wasn’t him. The old Bryce had memories of living in that house, loving that house, decorating and maintaining that house. None of those memories mattered to him now; and the house, which had had so much sentimental value for his old self, was so insignificant to him now that he couldn’t even remember what it looked like.

Bryce grinned at this realization— a grin of wrong-doing, and knowingly doing wrong, a grin of embracing corruption. He was a new man now, and he had fully stepped into his new identity. It was rooted into him, and had taken him over completely— he could feel how deeply it was true. And he took special enjoyment in the fact that he was nothing like he had been— and that he would never be like his old self again, either.

The car turned, heading on to another street that would bring them closer to home. Bryce pulled out his phone, and searched his contacts. He was looking for the number of the Exotic Motorsports branch in his city. It was one of his company’s holdings— he owned it, but he only rarely checked up on them.

“Exotic Motorsports,” a girl on the other end answered. “How can I help you?”

This started a chain of transfers that was only several calls deep. The girl transferred Bryce to a department which she thought was the right one— when he got there, the department told him that no, they weren’t the right department, but they knew which department was, and transferred him again. It took three transfers before Bryce was speaking to the store manager.

“Hello,” he said, slightly annoyed that it had taken him so long to get to the right person. “This is Bryce Towner.”

From the slight exhalation on the line, Bryce knew that the man had recognized the significance of his name; he went on speaking, ignoring this. “I need a 2001 Honda Accord picked up from my driveway, and scrapped tomorrow morning. I’ll be doing the scrapping of it myself.”

“We’ll pick it up first thing in the morning, Mr. Towner,” the manager assured him, in such a rush to speak that he tripped over his words. He was still sounding slightly awed at the fact that he was actually talking to the Bryce Towner.

Bryce paid no attention to this. Once he’d gotten the answer he wanted, he hung up the phone without making time for any pleasantries. He felt lucky: he was capable of doing the thing that Hallie had asked him for. How special that was… and he was glad that he had done it for her.

But destroying Selene’s car wasn’t only something he was doing because Hallie wanted it done. Now that she’d told him she wanted it, and now that he’d made all the arrangements for it to happen, he knew that it was something he wanted just as much as Hallie did. He was looking forward to tomorrow already— he couldn’t wait to see that car get crushed.

His driver was still driving them. They were getting closer to home all the time, but Bryce barely noticed the drive at all anymore. His thoughts were slipping back to Hallie— he must have her. He had to have her. He needed her in all ways; in every way possible. Her guidance mentally— guiding his mind where she wanted it to go, directing his thoughts towards what she wanted him to think. Her guidance physically, like at lunch when she’d directed his body with such slight touches.

He needed her guiding the direction of his life— needed her plotting out his future, so that it would lead to the outcomes that she wanted. He had to have everything, everything and anything at all that she would offer to him. Anything that she was willing to give him— he wanted it. It didn’t matter what it was going to turn out to be. He must have it.

The driver pulled the car up to the front gate of Bryce’s house— the security guard on duty there waved them through. Bryce turned from his thoughts of Hallie for a moment to look out the window. There was old Bryce’s house, up ahead. He looked at it, taking the image of it in. Now that he was seeing it with his own new eyes, it was just like stepping into old Bryce’s office for the first time as his new self. It felt like he had never been here before, even though he knew old Bryce had memories of it.

The house was monstrously huge— a true architectural monstrosity, with many wings and additions, and multiple stories. All kinds of ornamental decor had been built out into the exterior walls, as if to flaunt the wealth of the people who lived within.

Bryce closed his eyes, and went searching through the back of his mind to get more information from his old self. This was the kind of thing that that other version of him was still good for; memories of the past, memories of his life before Hallie.

Bryce made the connection, and felt his old self’s awareness moving through him, turning into something he could use. Yes, he remembered the house now— it had been his father’s house first, and his father’s father’s before that. It had been passed down to Bryce, and at the time that Bryce had received it, he had been deeply honored to take over caring for and maintaining it.

Now, it meant nothing to him.

Bryce opened his eyes again. He, the new self, was fully in control— the old Bryce had been put away again.

The car had reached the end of the drive, and pulled up in front of the house’s main door. His driver got out first, and came around to the back to open his door for him.

Bryce stepped out onto the stone walkway.

“Will you be needing me for the night, sir?” His driver asked.

“I will let you know,” Bryce replied, “and call you, if needed.” Then he started walking up towards the house.

Bryce was thinking of how well his lunch with Hallie had gone when he went inside. She was having a deeper effect on him than he’d ever thought possible— even just from a simple lunch spent in her company, he had changed so much; changed into being more of the man she needed from him. Just slight exposure to her was enough to do it; he’d never expected this to happen, when he’d first met her.

Even after she had started the changes in him, he hadn’t been able to fully comprehend where the changes were leading him, or how much power she had over him. If he could go back and speak to that earlier version of himself, that version that was still there in the back of his mind, Bryce knew he wouldn’t have been believed. But he didn’t mind that now— he appreciated the effect Hallie was having on him; and the unexpectedness of it had turned out to be a delightful surprise.

He was the only one home that evening, to his relief. There was no one there to distract him away from his thoughts, and no tedious conversations to listen to— no need to pretend that he was listening when he wasn’t. Or that he cared when he didn’t. Instead, since he was alone, he was completely free to do one of his favorite things in the world: think of Hallie. This he did, letting it eat up his evening.

As time passed him by, texts and calls from Selene were coming in. Bryce ignored all of these. It seemed completely pointless to answer or respond to her, so he didn’t want to do it. It felt like a waste of his energy.

He was more concerned with figuring out when he would see Hallie again. When they had separated at the restaurant, all she had told him was that she would “be in touch.” But what did that mean for him? How long would he have to wait? Did “in touch” mean days, weeks, or months?

Not knowing this was a source of frustration. He had to see Hallie again— had to know when this would happen. Seeing her was the only thing he wanted, the only thing he cared about, the only thing that was important to him. He couldn’t stand to wait indefinitely with no idea of when it would next happen— but for the moment, that was exactly what he had to do.

He tried to take his mind off of it, and keep from thinking about it. Dwelling on it would only frustrate him more.

The evening grew later, and as it progressed, it was spent on ignoring his feelings of frustration, and keeping his mind on simpler, more joyful thoughts of Hallie and her significance to him. These, when he succeeded in them, brought fleeting moments of elation. Eventually, though, it was late enough that Bryce decided he should go to bed.

He climbed into his bed, telling himself he was just going to lie down for a second before getting up again. He hadn’t even changed out of his work clothes yet. But before he could, he fell asleep right there, still wearing them.

Even in sleep, his mind was still racing. He was having the same experience of sleeping that he’d been having night after night, lately: part of his mind simply refused to shut off. It was doing something back there; reorganizing. While the majority of him slept, that other part of it was still working through its late-night task. And though Bryce was mostly at rest, it was impossible to be less than half-awake because the carrying out of that process wouldn’t allow for it.

In his half-sleep state Bryce could still feel; and he felt that he was changing for Hallie. She was becoming a part of him; overwhelming everything else that was inside. And everything in him was shifting to better fit around her; there was no denying how central she was becoming to his identity. Everything old that was left in him was gathering together to be broken down into new material.

The materials of Bryce’s identity became raw; then they were reformed quickly, into new shapes: new values, new priorities, new opinions, and then each one was perfectly placed with each of the others already there, and in perfect placement with all the other work that had been done to him already. He was being completely shifted around; nothing inside him would look the same once the process was over— people in his life who knew him wouldn’t recognize the new shape he was being built into. Even he himself wouldn’t recognize it, once he was fully awake. He was becoming the final version of himself that Hallie needed— the Bryce who completely belonged to her in every way, the Bryce who fit everything she wanted him to be. The Bryce who carried Hallie as a part of him, inside himself always.

But Bryce’s mind was thinking of other things, even in his sleep; even as this process was wrapping up and he might have had a hope of actually sleeping fully. It was starting to think again of the frustration he had tried to keep at bay all night long, but which he had never quite managed to. He was again haunted by the night’s earlier question. When Hallie had said, “in touch,” what had she meant? Days, weeks, or months? How long would it be? These questions renewed the frustration within him, and that frustration quickly turned to anger as he slept; and before long the anger had intensified enough that it woke him completely.

He was angry now— angry about not seeing Hallie, angry that he didn’t know how long he would have to go on without seeing her. Not seeing her was unacceptable to him: he wanted to see her, be with her as often as he could, and to be forced to continue in this state of deprivation was only further enraging him. His anger grew as he lay there, finally reaching its peak when a growl tore out of him.

In the wake of it, the malicious, wicked smile he’d been wearing with increasing frequency had returned; he could feel it spreading across his face. He opened his eyes— he could feel they were slightly bloodshot just from the strain this anger was causing him.

With his eyes open, though his vision was a little bleary, he could see the moonlight that was coming into the bedroom through the window. It shone down on him. And Bryce’s his hands found a grip in the mattress below him. He tightened into that grip with a ferocity that might have been enough to tear it. He was driving his fingers into it, pulling through the fitted sheet that covered the mattresses, making rows of the material with his fingers. He kept pulling at it; no matter how hard he gripped, or how deeply he dug in, it wasn’t enough to express his feelings outward.

There was just so much inside of him; so much tension, so much anger and frustration. It needed an outlet, and Bryce’s mattress was giving him that outlet. He dug deeper, pulling against the fabric, raking his fingers through, then gripping it again tighter; he alternated between both actions, unable to settle on one. He didn’t care if he damaged the bed; it was his bed, after all— he had bought it, and he had a right to damage it, even destroy it if he wanted to.

Bryce was still wearing the same twisted smile that was full of ill intentions. He could feel a laugh rising in him, and he willingly allowed it to pass through him and come out, a great booming thing.

Slowly, he stood from the bed, and walked from his bedroom. As he walked through the house, he thought of violence with which he’d torn and pulled at the bed, unbothered by possible consequences. The bed was his— he could wreck it if he wanted it.

But actually, the same was true of everything in this house. He had paid for each and every item here just as he’d paid for the bed. Everything here belonged to him— this was his house, and he could do anything he wanted with it.

He was just starting to walk past the dining room. But instead of continuing, he stopped and laugh. That dining room belonged to him; everything in it belonged to him; he could do anything with it. He laughed harder— then as his laugh was dying away, he began walking again, heading towards the dining room cabinet at the far end of it.

It was quite tall, and filled with expensive, exquisitely made plates and glassware; most of which Selene had chosen. When he reached the cabinet, he opened its front cabinet doors, and then stepped in behind the cabinet. He got his hands behind it, got his arms into position. Then he flexed his biceps, and started to give the cabinet a forceful shove from behind.

He was lucky that he’d always kept himself in such good shape— that he’d always made it a point to keep his body in a state of peak performance. Because of years of good habits, he now had the muscles and the strength to move the cabinet with only a moderate amount of effort.

The cabinet began to fall; but the plates and glassware were falling out of it, through the open doors, ahead of its plummet. Bryce could hear them all shattering on the dining room floor. Most of the shattering finished just in time for the cabinet to go over completely, landing with a heavy thud on the floor front-first.

Bryce surveyed the damage. Most of the broken shards were hidden beneath the remains of the cabinet. But Bryce was admiring the entire pile of destruction exactly as it was, even if he couldn’t quite see underneath to remnants of the dishes and glassware. In fact, he was enjoying the sight of its destroyed form so much that he found himself already smiling and laughing again. It was that same devil-like smile, that smile that matched his internal feelings of twisted glee. He was destroying, and it made him light-headed and giddy— so, so happy. He had to have more of the same feeling. He was destroying the physical remains, the physical evidence of his old life. He didn’t need it anymore— he was destroying what he had worked so hard with Selene to put into place; because he didn’t need it at all.

Bryce stood over the fallen cabinet, flush with energy. Destroying that cabinet had been a celebration; a celebration of being his new self, and breaking with his old self forever.

He looked down at the cabinet, still laughing. “Whoops,” he said, through his laughter. Breaking it had been a celebration, but maybe it had been a mistake too. The cabinet was now damaged beyond repair, and there was no way to cover that up now, even if he picked it back up and put it in place. He couldn’t undo the damage that had been done to it; just looking at it would make it clear the cabinet had been destroyed. And all the things that had been inside could not be put back together; and even if he cleared all those shards out of here, the absence of those plates and glasses would be notable. He couldn’t take any of it back; when his family returned, it would be clear to them.

He had acted impulsively, without thinking, carried away by his feelings. He hadn’t been like that since he was a teenager. And even then, he had only indulged that behavior in certain circumstances. He’d never let it interfere with his sixty-hour weeks at the time; but now, apparently, he was back to behaving this way, acting completely spontaneously.

It was hard to know how to fill his time when he was alone... When he was with Hallie, he was completely focused on her, thinking of nothing else. Everything made perfect sense, everything was simple, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do. It was the best feeling. In her presence, everything became clear: easy to understand, easy to carry out.

He was the same man, with her or without her; the man she had made him. And that man was impulsive, and reactive, and spontaneous— and lost without her direction. That didn’t change when he was with her, but when he was with her, there was a direction all these traits could be channeled into: the direction that Hallie wanted. The direction she told him. He could be impulsive for her. Spontaneous, and thoughtless, and reactive, for her— and then she could give him that maddening smile of hers, stroke his face with her long fingers and tell him that he’d done well.

But without Hallie, without knowing how he could serve her or what she wanted (or even when he would see her again) he was without direction. All he could do was flow with the things he felt inside, and let them control his actions, take his direction from them. Hallie had left him with many things to feel; he had plenty of indirect inspiration from these, but no real way of knowing if what he was doing was in anyway actually helping or pleasing Hallie at all.

He wished, once more, that he knew the answer to when he would see her again—wished that Hallie was here, right now, to tell him what she wanted, what he should do or be. Wished she were here to see the broken cabinet; so he could know if breaking it was pleasing to her; but he could have none of these things. He was left to his feelings, left with only them to direct him and no guidance from her... and he felt... a little adrift. Lost. What should he do now? Had breaking the cabinet been a mistake? Should he try to cover it up?

He looked down at it again to see what it made him feel, but the sight of it raised joy in him, and another laugh. He felt more of that celebration, that gleeful malevolence— he had broken something that had belonged to the old Bryce. He’d made it impossible to go back and pretend he was the same as that old version of him. He’d destroyed a former fixture in the scenery of old Bryce’s life… and in the scenery of his family’s life…

Bryce felt satisfied as he had in the moment that he’d seen the thing go over. He was thinking impulsively again, and didn’t care— he wanted more of this feeling. After all, why shouldn’t he destroy whatever he felt like? As he’d thought before in bed— as he’d thought when he passed through the house— as he’d thought in the moment he’d paused outside the dining room before coming in: this whole house was his. He had inherited it from his father, not Selene— and he had paid for every single thing it. Everything here belonged to him, and was his to do with what he wanted. If he wanted to destroy, he had every right.

When he looked at the things in the room that remained intact, he had a violent emotional reaction to them. They inspired blinding hatred in him. How dare they exist— how dare there be anything in his life that could serve to interrupt his dedicated focus on Hallie for even a moment. He hated his old way of life, and it was that way of life that had led to him buying all of these things. And even though all this furniture only sat immobile, its very presence was a distraction. These things existed to be used, to be seen, and having to pass them by and see them, or navigate around them, meant at least one second in which Bryce had to focus on them instead of Hallie. And anything that could interrupt thoughts of Hallie or distract from her, even for a second, couldn’t be allowed to go on existing.

Yes, the feeling was taking control of him. He was smiling his wicked smile, thinking wicked thoughts, and those thoughts were directing him to move again— and steering him through his movements. He was stepping forward to the dining table, lifting one of its chairs, one hand on either side of the chair’s back. He’d had these imported from overseas, and had specifically paid for their shipping— not to mention the substantial amount he’d paid for each one of them. The old Bryce and his family had sat in them, meal after meal.

Bryce brought the chair down with a swing of his body, smacking its legs hard against the floor.

The thing shook in his hands, vibrating with the force of its striking against the floor, but it hadn’t been enough to actually split the wood. This time Bryce lifted it higher, over his head, swinging and smashing it down.

This time the force made its impact. It traveled up the legs of the chair and split it in two; and when the center of the chair came apart, the legs came off of it too, until there was only a pile of shattered wood on the floor, aside from the remains of the cabinet and its contents.

He laughed; one more thing from his former way of life destroyed, one more obstacle between him and Hallie out of the way, one more distraction from her eliminated. He felt triumphant, that triumph shining in his chest and all through his body.

But then he hesitated. He felt triumphant, but it wasn’t enough; he took up the next chair. This one, he heaved back, and then lunged forward with it, releasing his hold on it and sending it careening through the air into the wall; and not just any part of the wall. He had aimed directly for the large painting that hung on one wall of the dining room. It had been painted by a well-known artist Selene liked. Old Bryce had bought it at auction for her as a gift once, for a high price.

When the chair hit into the painting, it smashed, but also knocked the painting off its hanging hook, the glass of the frame also smashing when it came down on the ground.

There was no thought anymore, only this feeling inside that seemed to grow with each thing he destroyed— excitement, elation, ecstasy— he was different, he would never be the same, never be his old self again, and each destruction was proof. He could look at down at the remains of the destroyed things, and see the proof.

He rushed from the dining room, leaving the other chairs untouched without a thought; he wanted to do more.

He was in the foyer of the house now; there was a hutch there, and on the hutch, there were various pictures of the family sitting on its surface in frames of various sizes. He didn’t care enough to put the hutch over as he’d done the cabinet, but he swept his arms across its top surface, sending each picture in its frame crashing down onto the floor, where they all shattered. There were pictures that hung on the walls of the foyer, too; more family photos. Bryce ran along the walls, sweeping his arms there too. Left and right, pictures crashed, frames shattered, and Bryce was letting out a gleeful giddy laugh as he ran, and the pictures broke all around. He felt like a playful child.

The foyer was less of a disaster than the dining room; breaking pictures was much less extreme than destroying a big piece like the cabinet. And yet, though the order of magnitude was different, Bryce took exactly the same amount of satisfaction in breaking the small things as he did in breaking the large ones.

Still, even with the pictures off them, the foyer’s walls still offended him somehow. They couldn’t be forgiven for ever having held the pictures that were now ruins on the floor; he passed back along them, beating them in that mixture of blind rage and glee, feeling the drywall crumple and break apart under his fists.

He streaked out of the foyer, its walls smashed and damaged but its larger pieces intact— the hutch, the sculpture that sat in there. He was as elated as when he’d come out of the dining room.

The living room off of the foyer was next. He threw the cushions from the couch— he threw these simply onto the floor. He kicked the coffee table over, breaking the plant vase that had sat on it, and spilling its dirt and its plant onto the living room floor. Then he ground the plant into the carpet with his heel. He took up one of the pillows that had sat on the couch, and heaved it back with this arm before launching it at the fireplace; there was a family portrait that hung above it, and the strike of the pillow was enough to knock it to the ground too.

The more he destroyed, the more he wanted to destroy. There was no satisfaction; each action he took only left him craving more. He moved to the back wall of the living room. Those expensive, high-tech surround speakers that were hooked up there— he grabbed one with both hands, and ripped it from the wall, before launching it across the room, and through the air, as easily as if it were a baseball. He watched it go, and giggled again, full of that child-like exuberance— fueled by the destruction. Next, he moved to the far corner of the room, where sat the piano, beneath the chandelier that hung in that corner, casting down its illumination.

He kicked the piano stool aside; he put his arms behind the piano, seized by the sudden impulse and excited at the potential of it; he tipped this forward to fall on its front too, and there was an awful cacophony of piano notes as the keys were crushed against the floor, and the piano let out its death cry of anguish.

Bryce jumped onto the back of the piano, jumping up and down on it: a child jumping on a bed, laughing in glee as he did. When he jumped, it forced the piano deeper into the floor, and the keys let out a few more feeble warbling notes when they made contact with the floor again.

Still he jumped, and on the upswing of it, it brought him close enough to the chandelier above that he could grasp it and hang on. He swung from it for a moment, cackling again; but he wasn’t swinging in a haphazard way just for the sake of it. He was twisting his body around deliberately to weaken the chandelier’s connecting point in the ceiling.

He twisted it again, wrenching his body to wrench his arms, and make the chandelier twist with them. Again— and there was a creaking noise as the chandelier started to give. He gave one more pull, and then swung off of it. He landed on his feet just a second later, in time to watch the chandelier come crashing down on the back of the piano. It shattered there, denting and driving the wood in from the back, completely destroying it.

Following this, Bryce ran from the living room, energized further by the destruction. He passed the first-floor bathroom— he threw towels and wash towels alike on the floor, threw the rolls of toilet paper out through the door so they unrolled along the hall floor. He moved on— in the laundry room that was downstairs, he poured the detergent out on its cement floor, and threw the clean clothes from the dryer down to lie in the spilled detergent.

Then upstairs— tipped the mattress off of his son’s bed, threw the bedclothes of his daughter’s bed out of her second-floor window down onto the grass below. In the second-floor bathroom that his children shared, he took all the caps off of their bottles of shampoos and soaps before launching them down the hall as he’d earlier done with the toilet paper downstairs. They streaked through the air, and all their contents spilled out of them, painting the hallway walls and floors.

In the master bedroom, Bryce tipped the standing wardrobe, sending it down onto the master bed, and caving it in. The bed had served its last use; it had supported his body as his mind had completed his transformation earlier tonight; and he would never need it for anything else again now that he was transformed.

It was like there had been some animal waiting all this time inside of him, caged and dormant. Somehow, Hallie had set it free, and now it was free, and it could run loose, wreaking havoc. He reveled in the feeling.

He was animal-like, right down to his appearance. Animal-like, and savage. All of this destruction had made him wild— his shirt had torn apart from the flexing of his muscles, and his pants had frayed and torn just as much as the shirt from all the strength he’d been exerting tonight. Both now hung from his body in draggles and tatters, barely staying on.

It still wasn’t enough. He was only getting started.

He grabbed the mirror that hung on the bedroom wall by both sides of its frame, and raised it over his head. He brought it down the bedroom floor, and like so many other things before it, it shattered upon impact against the floor.

It was at this moment that Bryce’s phone rang.

Normally, he ignored his phone calls, but it was always worth seeing who he was ignoring first.

He hit the lock button on the side of his phone, and when he did, it showed him two things. First, that the time was now 5 am, which meant that several hours had gone by in an eyeblink, lost in the giddy haze of destruction— and, second, that Hallie was the one calling.

Bryce was glad he’d checked. He would never ignore Hallie— he’d been thrilled by the ransacking of the house, but here was a thrill to top every other thrill of the night. He was actually going to get to talk to her.

Eagerly, he answered the phone. “I’m so happy to hear from you,” he told her.

When Hallie spoke in response, she sounded uncertain. Bryce wanted to know what she was uncertain about, so he could resolve her insecurity. “I wanted to spend some time with you,” she started. “But I wasn’t sure if you were busy with work.”

As soon as she spoke, Bryce was grateful: she had given him direction, even without meaning to— the two of them would spend time together now, because she wanted to. And by calling, she had solved his mystery. He wouldn’t have to wait days or weeks or months to see her again. He would only have to wait a matter of minutes.

Bryce was also glad to know the source of Hallie’s uncertainty. He could clarify this right now for her, so she would never have to feel a doubt like this again. He couldn’t speak the words quickly enough to get them out of his mouth. “Work?” He repeated incredulously. “You don’t have to worry about my work— ever. It will never interfere with our time together, and I will never allow it to interrupt us.”

Hallie didn’t say anything in immediate response, instead giving Bryce the opportunity to go on speaking, which he took. “I’d like to show you that favor you asked me for,” he added.

“So soon?” She asked— but she sounded delighted. “I wasn’t expecting it this fast.”

“I’ll be right over,” Bryce assured her.

“Just a second,” she said— there was a pause on the other end of the line, and then a notification from his phone, showing him that Hallie had texted and sent her address.

“See you in a minute,” Bryce said.

“I’ll be waiting,” Hallie added, in her sultry voice. Bryce felt a bit weak where he stood, but he hung up the phone. He couldn’t believe it— he was going to get to see Hallie. The thought of it was so exciting he could barely contain himself.

He looked down at the smashed bedroom mirror on the floor, and smiled to himself again. He moved past the smashed bed and smashed wardrobe— to the closet, in which some of his clothes would still be accessible.

He pulled the closet door back, opened it, and started dressing himself in one of his fine suits. It was out of the question to go to see Hallie in the set of tattered rags he was currently wearing. He put the dress pants of his suit on first, then the shirt, the suit jacket, the tie; he wanted to be sure that he looked more than presentable for Hallie— he wanted her to appreciate his appearance tonight, and enjoy it.

Once he was dressed, he called down to his driver, who was on standby, and told him they would be going on a two-stop trip. First, to pick up Hallie at the address she had texted. And then, after that, to Exotic Motorsports’ Junkyard on 5th Avenue.

“I’m out front,” was his driver’s reply.

Bryce headed down quickly. As he went through the foyer, he moved past some of the damaged drywall; he remembered causing it with his fists alone, earlier that morning.

Once outside, he got into his limo. As soon as he was inside, with the door closed behind him, his driver started the car up and drove them off of Bryce’s property, setting them on their way to Hallie’s place.

Normally, Bryce was contented to ride these kinds of trips out in silence, but this time he had something that he wanted to clear up with his driver. “When my guest comes into this car, you’re not to speak to her. In fact, you’re not to speak to or respond to Miss Hallie ever.”

“Yes sir,” the driver confirmed. “Of course.”

Bryce was glad to have made this clear. He wanted to protect Hallie from unsolicited comments, and annoyances; such as his driver might have pestered her with if he hadn’t told him not to. He wanted to protect her in any way he could, wanted to make her life as easy and pain-free as possible. This included sparing her from the necessity of making small-talk, and wasting her precious time. So far, tonight, he had succeeded in this goal, and he was glad for that.

A few short moments later, Bryce’s driver pulled up outside of Hallie’s house. Only a second later, her front door opened. She stepped out and began walking down her front path.

Bryce saw her; and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She looked unbelievable in the dress she was wearing. It was a dress held up by straps— it had no sleeves. It was tight, and it was black, but it was so much more than that.

It sat so close to her body that it was practically skin-tight, and it hugged her breasts perfectly. The neckline was low enough in the front that the top of her very substantial cleavage was perfectly visible. The rounded tops of each large breast were also visible, behind the neckline, peeking out above it, partially covered by each dress strap, which held the top of the dress snug against them.

The skirt was high, sitting just a few inches below her hips, leaving most of her shapely legs also visible. Because the dress was so tight, the curve of her waist was easy to admire within its shape.

The dress itself had an intricate patterned design, which interspersed with the solid black color that formed the base of it. This pattern was composed of rows of small, muted green circles which lined up next to each other and formed into shapes.

Some of these shapes extended across the dress in chain-like rows, a subtle touch which Bryce admired, but every two parallel rows, the chains ran vertically instead of horizontally. Some of these vertical chains formed the image of alternating triangles, first pointing up, then pointing down. There was something very satisfying about the sections of black that emerged from between triangles.

But as the dress extended down, the vertical chains changed from triangles to slanted lines that connected rows. Every three horizontal lines paired. The top of these three had a gap of black below, which was divided by vertical lines arcing down to the middle line. The third line had a gap above, with vertical lines arcing up to the middle line. This created the illusion of arrows.

The pattern alternated this way; the section of the pattern in which there were alternating triangles. Then the section of the pattern that formed arrows with its slanting lines. A repeat of the triangles, then— and then the slanting lines between rows again, down to the very bottom of the dress, at which point, after the final horizontal row, fat diamond shapes which extended to the hem of the dress.

The pattern of the dress… the way it endlessly shifted between both its components... the way that muted gray-green of the circles, which formed the rows and chains, stood out against the boldness of the black beneath. Combined with the way the dress complimented and showcased Hallie’s body, it was simply impossible to look away from.

Hallie looked incredible. There were no words for it. Bryce couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He watched as she walked to the car, amazed by the sight of her. The movement of her large breasts with each step. The way the dress sat so tight against her skin; the look of that pattern, the way it never quite repeated itself, the contrast of its colors... she was perfect in it.

When Hallie had come close enough, Bryce got out of the car to meet her.

She reached out and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a hug that Bryce savored. To be held in her arms was like nothing else— to be pressed close to her body. Bryce loved it.

When she had released him, Bryce opened the limo door for her, and held it open as she climbed inside. He would never allow his driver to do it. She was too important for such insignificance as having to interact with or engage with his driver. Hallie was important— and he would make sure her importance was respected. He would shield her from every kind of interaction with his driver, if he had to. He wanted her to be completely free of any annoyance.

After Hallie was sitting inside on the limo seat, Bryce climbed in after her, and shut the car door. “Driver, we’re ready,” he called ahead to him, and a second later the limo came on again, beginning the second stretch of the trip, which would take them to the junkyard.

Hallie took hold of Bryce’s hand as they rode, and Bryce grasped it back. They sat like that, holding hands, for some minutes. Bryce was simply thrilling at the fact that he was touching her, and she was touching him. Having any part of Hallie’s body under his hands was like a dream. The fact that she wanted to touch him at all made him feel so lucky that he didn’t know what to do with himself.

They’d be riding for a while when Hallie finally dropped his hand. Bryce was sad for the loss, but before he could grieve it entirely, Hallie had lifted herself up and seated herself on Bryce’s lap again— just as she had done at the restaurant. It was just as good as Bryce remembered it— those full breasts of hers right near his face, her scent so close that it filled his senses. She was filling his senses, all of her, her scent in his nose, a taste on his tongue and in the back of his throat, and the visions of her body filled his eyes. He was completely surrounded by her, submersed in her, and he was so happy to be there.

Hallie tipped her head down, putting a light kiss on his lips that he felt there even when she’d turned from him again.

She next reached into the left breast pocket of Bryce’s shirt, and finding his phone there, she withdrew it.

She looked back down to him again, and Bryce understood her cue even without language. He lifted his left hand to unlock his phone as Hallie held it in her hand. He typed the code in and spoke simultaneously, “the is passcode 6741.” It only seemed right to him that Hallie should know it. It was right that she could go into it any time and see all of his information. He wanted her to know that information. He wanted her to feel that he kept nothing back from her. Everything that was his was hers too, if she wanted it. She had the right to know everything about him.

Hallie smiled in response to what Bryce had freely offered her, and then immediately started scrolling through his texts.

“You haven’t been responding to anything lately,” she noted— she was smiling as she spoke, and when she finished, she put another light kiss on his mouth. This time she didn’t turn away from him. She tucked her head in against the crook of Bryce’s neck, and cuddled her body even closer to his. She stayed in exactly that position as they drove on, and Bryce couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

At last, the limo pulled up to the junkyard lot, and the driver parked it. Through the window, they could already see the manager of Exotic Motorsports coming out to greet them. Hallie slid off Bryce’s lap, and Bryce climbed out first, then held the door as Hallie followed after him.

He closed the door once she was out, and then took her by the hand again as they began walking from the car. He was feeling as protective of her as he had the whole night; he wanted to be there to shield her from anything and everything the world might try to do to her— anything it might try to inflict on her that she didn’t want. While her hand was held in his, he felt that he could do this, and that gave him great relief.

They stepped forward from the car together, and saw that the manager of Exotic Motorsports was now standing outside the car waiting. Together, they both stopped, and turned toward him.

“I was really surprised to hear from you,” the manager addressed to Bryce. “I’m simply honored to be around you.”

Bryce ignored this obvious admiration—he could see that same starstruck expression in the manager’s face that he was accustomed to. He didn’t have time for it— he had come here for one reason, and playing celebrity to an awed onlooker was not it.

“I assume you’re ready to do what I need,” Bryce said pointedly.

“Yes, please follow me to the control tower,” the manager responded.

The three of them set off walking: the manager out in front, Bryce and Hallie behind by a step or two, still grasping hands as they followed him.

He led them in the direction of a small control tower, down a dirt walkway. To all sides of that path, there were metal objects sitting nearby. Each object was bent, and wrecked— completely warped so that it was almost impossible to tell what it had been before it was crushed.

Bryce stepped carefully and kept his eyes on Hallie as the two of them walked. She was wearing high-heels, and he wanted to be ready to catch her in case she stumbled in them and fell— or in case one of those heels broke. If she stumbled off the path, and fell into one of those objects, she could really get hurt. And Bryce wouldn’t let that happen.

The walkway was curving now, towards the entrance of the control tower atop of the stairs that led up to it. It was only a few feet ahead— they were almost all the way there. Bryce stopped walking, and Hallie stopped with him.

“That’s far enough,” Bryce called ahead to the manager, who also stopped, and looked back to him. “You tell me what to do from here, and I’ll handle the rest.”

It was very important to Bryce that he be the one who was actually responsible for carrying out the task that Hallie had asked of him. She had not asked him to delegate, she had asked him to do. And he wanted all the credit for this action to belong to him only, wanted none of it to go to this nobody junkyard manager. He was the one who could accomplish what Hallie wanted. And the thought of Hallie thanking someone other than him was unbearable— he wanted to receive all her thanks; and wanted to be the only one.

“Yes, Mr. Towner,” The manager agreed eagerly. “Once you enter the control tower, you’ll see a blue button on the far left of the control panel. If you press it, it will start the process.”

“Now get out of my sight,” Bryce growled. The anger had leapt up in him suddenly; but now that he had the information he needed to give Hallie what she wanted, the man’s continued presence here was delaying them— delaying Hallie, and that was enough to enrage him.

The manager gave a quick nod, and rushed off past them, back towards the front of the junkyard lot where the main building was.

Bryce looked ahead at the last stretch of the walkway. It was in worse shape than the rest of the path. Uneven, full of dips in the earth that were pothole-like, and the stairs that led up to the entry door of the tower looked like they were equally rundown. Even from here, Bryce could see they were holes in the slats and steps of those stairs. They were far too treacherous to walk in high heels.

Without a second thought, Bryce swung Hallie up into his arms, carrying her bridal style as he walked the rest of the way. It felt good to hold her close his body as he carried her— and she clasped her arms around his neck, holding on to him as they went— and that felt good too.

At last, when they were standing outside the door to the control tower, he gently lowered her, opened the door, and held it as she walked in ahead of him. He went in after her.

Inside, there was a metal control booth over to one side, complete with control panel, and a blue button clearly visible on the left side of it. The two of them entered the booth together, and found that, through a set of glass windows, the booth looked down on the car crusher.

The manager had told the truth; Selene’s Honda was already set up inside of the crusher. They must have come to get it at some point during the destruction of Bryce’s house, earlier that morning. The car was only waiting for the press of a button to bring on its destruction.

Hallie pointed at the car with a delicate finger. “That’s the car that I remember from the documentary,” she noted.

Bryce shook his head. “I don’t care about that documentary— You asked a favor of me, and I’m happy to do it.”

Hallie had stood herself over the control board, so that she could get the best possible view of the compactor below. But as soon as Bryce had spoken, he came up behind her, as she faced the controls, and reached down with his left hand for the blue blinking button that was positioned where the manager had told him it would be.

Hallie’s body was warm against the front of his as he pressed the button. This was followed by a whirring noise as the compactor kicked into gear and started its work. It pressed in on the car from all sides, and the crushing began.

Bryce watched as the hood of the car broke under the pressure; watched as the front windshield shattered. The sounds of the metal as it broke and cracked were clearly audible even from within the control tower, within the booth.

One of the tires on the back of the car exploded.

The sounds of all this destruction were still coming through clearly, but it was at this moment that Hallie turned around to face Bryce.

“Your mind should be enjoying this as it happens to the car,” she told him.

Bryce felt his mind light up as soon as the words were spoken. Before Hallie had said this, he had been happy in a general way. Just feeling joy at having done something that Hallie had wanted, had asked him for.

But now he felt differently. He was actively enjoying the sight of Selene’s car being destroyed; he had latched onto Hallie’s words, and he could do nothing now but enjoy as she’d told him to.

Another tire exploded from the pressure— Bryce smiled as he heard it happen, smiled as he watched the rubber give out.

There was next a loud groaning of metal as the entire body of the car was compacted down. Bryce’s eyes were on it, observing it closely— he was having so much fun watching it break that he didn’t want to look away for even a second. He was listening in as closely as he was watching; taking each detail of this experience deeply to heart, and enjoying all of it so much more as a result.

But out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hallie moving. She was getting down onto her knees in front of him, and a second later, Bryce felt her pull the zipper of his slacks down.

He had been a little stiff just from being close to her, and especially when she’d been sitting on his lap, but now that her hand was in such close proximity, he could feel himself getting even harder.

He looked down at her, where she was kneeling— he could see down the front of her dress. Oh my god— those breasts! It was one thing to see them from the front, but to see them from above was entirely different. The size, the shape— the fullness— they were so round… Bryce’s eyes widened, and he felt himself growing even harder still.

The sound of steel crunching in the background was filling his ears as the sight of Hallie’s breasts filled his eyes. This experience was saturating his senses— he was starting to feel oversaturated, and yet he was craving more.

Hallie reached inside of his slacks with her right hand, then undid the three buttons on the front of his Calvin Klein boxers, guiding him out. When he was exposed to her, she put his growing penis into her mouth— tasting him.

Bryce let out a gasp; he could feel her lips pressing in around him. She moved them with such care that it seemed she was enjoying the feel of him on them; and then she started her tongue swirling, and Bryce worried for a second that he wouldn’t be able to remain standing. She swirled— swirled— entwining the tip of his penis with her tongue and winding it through her licks, all as she held him warm in her mouth, her lips pressed tight against him and sucking. The sensation was incredible.

Bryce looked up again to see the car cracking further. A third tire exploded, and the oil leaking out of the car was visible. At the same time, the engine block of the car was also clearly being crushed.

Bryce was overwhelmed— he had never had an experience like this. The sights and sounds of the car breaking, which his mind had been instructed to entertain itself with— he was taking so much enjoyment from it that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun.

But in addition to this, the sensations of Hallie sucking and licking him—! The two combined were just— were so— there weren’t quite words worthy of the combination. The enjoyment of the crushing and the pleasure of what Hallie was doing seemed to combine to result in an ecstasy unlike any Bryce had ever felt. He didn’t know if he wanted to burst out laughing, or if he wanted to start howling in pleasure. If he opened his mouth now, he didn’t know what would come out of it— laughs, or shrieks of pleasure? He felt so light inside— so happy, but at the same time, Hallie was setting him on fire with each shift of her mouth.

The trunk of car was starting to crack now, too, and at the same time, Hallie was taking all of him, entirely, into her mouth. Bryce’s body could only jerk forward haphazardly, going where Hallie was taking him with her mouth. He could feel his lust pooling in his balls, could feel himself getting tighter there. He wasn’t going to last much longer. But he couldn’t even think of coming until Hallie had given permission. It would be wrong.

Luckily, before Bryce had the chance to fail her, Hallie took him out of her mouth, and looked up to him. “There is no more Selene,” she said, in a serious tone. “There is only Hallie.”

The truth of this revelation gripped him. He had already been feeling it before Hallie had spoken it; he had felt it all night as his mind had been working in his sleep. He’d felt it since he’d woken up changed, early that morning; since he’d woken up, complete. Hallie didn’t even know how much of an effect she had on him— didn’t know the massive destruction he had caused earlier, only thinking of her as he’d done it.

But now that he was hearing it from her, he knew it was total certainty. It was solidified. Yes. Hallie was the one for him. The only one. There was no one else.

Hallie put him back in her mouth again, and Bryce was struck again by the experience. Even as he was receiving oral pleasure unlike any he’d ever had, all he could think about was Hallie, and what she needed.

She pulled back off of him again. Looking up at him, and she said, simply, “Give me your cum,” and then slid him back into her mouth.

Bryce was looking back down at her as she did it— and in his mind, he knew what he had to do. His penis stiffened again, his balls tensed a little further and then, he felt ecstasy tearing through him as his orgasm took complete hold.

A shot of his cum spilled from his penis, and into Hallie’s mouth— just as the final tire of the car exploded, and the engine block of the car crushed down further.

Hallie took all his cum down her throat, and then, when he was done, and twitching in her mouth, she stood up. His pants zipper was still undone— his boxers still unbuttoned— and his sensitive penis was still in her hands.

His eyes watched her— all his attention focused in on her face, which wore a look of determination.

“Let’s go see your place,” Hallie said, definitively. Then she zipped up his pants.

Bryce swept her up into his arms again— catching her by surprise; he knew he was smiling wickedly again, and from the look on Hallie’s face, which was fading from surprise now to satisfaction, he knew she was enjoying it.

Carrying her this way once again, he started back out through the tower door, outside, and then down the stairs to head back up the path to his limo at the edge of the lot.