The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Daniel Malcolm had not said a word for the previous ten minutes. Radhu was almost surprised to see his friend still there when he looked away from his computer terminal.

“By the way, I have a few items of note that may be considered somewhat negative,” said the lanky Indian. “First, last week, based on your judicious hint my facial recognition software fed by a regional network of surveillance cameras alerted me to a match on Jennifer at the local airport. A contact of mine has now confirmed Biff’s and Jennifer’s presence on a connecting flight from Boston to Saint Thomas in the Virgin Islands last Sunday. One-way tickets.”

Daniel nodded, sipping some Indian liquor he had found in his friend’s cupboards. A week earlier Jackson, through their common friend Cindy, had passed along the information that Biff was skipping town with Jenn in tow. “Well, at least that part of the story checks out.” He did not ask Radhu about his contact—the tall Indian’s web of associations was often frightening to contemplate.

“Also, the acquaintance to whom I loaned Serena’s charm bracelet for analysis has reported his findings.”

“Let me guess. Nothing.”

“Indeed. He said, and I quote, ‘just your typical cheapo gimmicky bracelet.’ Not even manufactured with genuine silver, but only a patina over some unremarkable alloy. A small enterprise in Portland, Maine, distributes them. Would you like me to scrutinize this connection further?”

“I doubt it’d lead anywhere. So it’s not the bracelets, then. Great.” Daniel sighed. “It’s all gone to shit, Rad. All of it.” He leaned back into the sofa. Maybe it was him. Maybe that was it, the key to it all. Maybe he was the fuck up.

“I’m not cognizant of such an hyperbolic assessment having any bearing on reality.”

“Let’s see—you’re locked up in this apartment with apparently no intent of ever getting sunlight on your skin again, Serena is spending her time doing Lord knows what and has been so completely unreliable that I barely recognize her anymore, and oh, let’s not forget, my girlfriend, and recent fiancée, has taken off for the Caribbean with a thick-skulled neanderthal, breaking up with me for no discernible reason, and a lot of that crap seems to revolve around that stupid frat, and no one seems to be willing to even look into it.”

He was getting angry, and was aware enough to realize he was being unfair to Radhu. The problem was that he felt helpless, a feeling with which he had little experience. Confronting the fraternity president, hiring a private investigator to find Jenn when she first disappeared, talking to the police chief the previous week, all those efforts had yielded nothing.

What made matters worse was the letter he had received at the beginning of the week, a letter that had been slipped by hand into his mailbox. It was a handwritten letter, from Jenn—he recognized the handwriting, that unique way she had of looping her Ls—a dear-john letter if he had ever seen one, in which she admitted that she had gotten cold feet about the wedding, that it had all gone too fast, that it had been suffocating, and that she needed her space—space to breathe, to blossom, to find herself. And that she had found Biff who could help her through all of that, because he was understanding and kind and was willing to let her proceed at her own pace. And not to go and look for her because it was over and she hoped he would have a nice life. A big load of bullshit, Daniel knew, but he had stared at that letter until he was shrouded by the night’s darkness.

He had later learned that most of Jenn’s friends had heard from her as well, either by email or through the phone, and were told that she was okay but that she was taking a break after her break up with Daniel, and that she needed some time to think and was therefore taking a leave of absence, and not to worry about her and that she would get in touch with them when she returned. A friend of Daniel at the registrar’s office was kind enough to confirm that indeed Jennifer Hansen had filed a petition for a leave of absence from the University for the remainder of the semester, and that it had been granted.

In other words, as far as her friends were concerned, as far as the University was concerned, as far as the police was concerned, everything was on the level. Jenn had left, and no one was worried. Daniel believed none of it. But from now on, people would dismiss anything he said as sour grapes, automatically assuming he was upset that Jenn had left him. He was stuck. He had to reluctantly appreciate how elegant the gambit was. Could Biff really have thought that strategically?

Daniel was certain that Biff—if it was Biff—must have somehow coerced Jenn into writing those letters and emails and making those phone calls. To be honest, after having coerced her into leaving for the South with Biff, having her send those messages sounded like a small thing. Daniel had wondered whether Jenn had been able to smuggle out a message to him or anyone else about what was going on, but there had been nothing he could discern in the letter he had received. He had asked Radhu to look at the letter and see whether he could discover some secret code in it, but Radhu had just shaken his head and said that while he could look it over, there was barely a negligible chance of discovering anything unless he had an a priori idea of which secret code was used. Another dead end.

All of which left him depressed. But at least he had calmed down. The hysteria that had plagued him ever since Jenn first disappeared three weeks earlier had been replaced by a quiet determination to get to the bottom of the mystery.

He needed to think of something else. “So how’s the life of an online student treating you then?” Since Radhu had developed his crippling inability to go outside, he had agreed to become a guinea pig for the University new online programs, in his case in mathematical physics.

“I find it intensely liberating, if I want to be unabashedly honest, which I want to be. And superbly convenient. I can do it all from here, my center of operation, my control nexus.” He pointed to the two monitors, his gesture sweeping to the webcams and the microphones and the speakers and several devices of which Daniel could not discern the use. “I can communicate with teaching assistants and instructors when needed, and my thesis advisor has proved willing to interact via webcam. I venture I am additionally fortunate that my interests chiefly lie in the most theoretical fields of physics, and that I am not an experimentalist. Although,” he mused, staring at a wall, “I would not be surprised that a mechanism for conducting the panoply of experiments required for a thorough experimental physics course could be devised. In fact...” his voice trailed, as he pondered the problem.

Daniel, finishing his drink and reaching for the bottle, considered his friend. He was still Radhu, still himself, despite this self-imposed hermitage within the confines of his apartment. He seemed even more himself than ever, as if shedding the mantle of social interactions had distilled him to his essence. Odd how the world works, sometimes, he reflected.

He was staring at all the computing equipment on his friend’s desk, while Radhu was still thinking about remote experimentation setups, when a thought that had been running in the back of his mind for the last few days jumped to the fore. “Rad, I might have a couple of favors to ask from you.”

“Whatever you require, my friend.”

“I need to understand what is going on. You keep telling me to keep my mind open to the possibility that perhaps everything is just as it appears, but I don’t buy it. I am still convinced that somehow, the frat is involved. I’m not sure how, not sure why, but they’re involved.”

“And you still conjecture that their presumed shenanigans involves some kind of mind control? Following our discussion three weeks ago, I investigated connections between the fraternity and companies known or suspected to dabble in mind-altering technology, and nothing has yet emerged.”

“Fine, so the connection is not that clear. But my gut’s screaming at me, and I want to know why. Unfortunately, we can’t move directly.”

“Confrontation has not delivered the requisite information, that is true.”

“Right, going after the frat seems difficult, and the police has no reason to investigate because someone managed to get Jenn to tell everyone that she left town of her own volition.”

“Unless, it goes without saying, that desire was authentic on her part.”

“You know I don’t believe that, and deep inside, you don’t either. But that’s irrelevant. The point is, we can’t go at it directly. We need information.”

“Might this have anything to do with your befriending of this Jackson fellow?”

“Partly. I’m hoping I can get him to talk about what’s going on at the frat. He does seem like a nice guy, and he genuinely seems to feel bad about Biff stealing Jenn away.”

“Do you trust him?”

“No. But I don’t need to trust him.”

Radhu nodded.

“But we need more than Jackson. We need lots more. And there is a link that we haven’t explored yet, a link between the fraternity, Marjorie, and possibly the events at NADA last semester—”

“Snowman,” completed Radhu.

“Snowman indeed.” The mysterious man who had come up during their search for Marjorie Duquesne the previous semester, who had been seen with her, the one who had been with her during the deplorable NADA party. “He knows something. We need to find him.”

“How do you intend to achieve this feat?”

“No idea. But a first step might be your facial recognition stuff.”

“That may prove spectacularly challenging.”

“Why? It found Jenn at the airport, no?”

“Indeed, but I had access to several photographs of Jennifer to construct a matching pattern. Similarly with Biff, although the pattern was much less detailed because the only photographs I had available were gleaned from the Internet. We unfortunately have no pictorial representation of Snowman that I am aware of.”

“Could we fake it?”

“We could give the software general patterns and a broad description, but the result will be abysmally slow, and substantially inaccurate.”

“Damn. Okay, well, still, it’s better than nothing. Anything will help. I’ll try to see if I can find a picture of him, somehow.” Daniel paused. “Second favor. From here you can access every computer on campus, right?”

“As long as they are reachable, yes, however tautologous that statement may appear to be.”

“Including computers located in private houses?”

“If they are connected to the Internet, I cannot contemplate why those would be any different. And since most everyone is indeed connected to the Internet, that is not really a question. Why are you inquiring?”

“Could you get into the computers at Delta Iota Kappa and, I don’t know, snoop around some?”

“Well, laying to the side the ethical implications of the question and treating it as an hypothetical scenario, I would imagine it highly depends on the kind of firewall they have installed, and the extent to which their computers are interconnected. And, it goes without saying, the competence of their system administrators. But all things being equal, I do not see why it should be impossible.”

“Radhu, my friend Radhu. I am about to ask you to hack into Delta Iota Kappa and see if you can find anything, anything at all, about what they’re doing, anything about those bracelets, what happened to Jenn, anything. Whether or not they are behind what happened at NADA last year, anything.”

Radhu was looking in his direction but not actually looking at him, clearly lost in thought. Was he thinking back to that party at NADA? Just then, Daniel’s phone rang. A quick look revealed the caller. Cindy.

“Hello?”

“Hi Dan. Cindy here. Bad time?”

“No, it’s okay, just hanging out with Radhu. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to know if you were still up to meet for your final project tomorrow? I have a free period at three.”

“Sure. That’d be great. Three. Meet at the Student Center?”

“Perfect. Also...” and Daniel heard her hesitation at the other end of the phone. “I... Look, I was wondering if you’d be up for going out to dinner Friday night. Not for a date—I mean, we wouldn’t be alone or anything. Jackson and Kyra, a nice little friendly outing. You know, to entertain ourselves a bit? Maybe catch a movie or something. I think Showgirls 2 is out now.”

“Showgirls 2? Huh...”

“Kidding! About the movie, I mean. But I think dinner might be fun. What do you say?”

“Sure, Cin. Sounds great.”

“Great! We’re thinking of heading to the Grill down on College. If you’re okay with it, we can settle the details tomorrow when we chat.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Same here, Dan, Same here! See you tomorrow. Bye!”

Daniel disconnected the call. Radhu was looking at him.

“Go ahead,” Daniel said, “ask your question.”

“I am wondering what your position was with respect to her.” Radhu nodded towards Daniel’s cell phone. “Do you trust her? By your own admission, she has associations to the fraternity, she was likely carnally acquainted with Biff, she has a friendship with Jackson, she was harboring a charms bracelets, she was present at the NADA party last semester, and she pounced on you like a starving leopard when Jennifer disappeared. A less suspicious mind than mine, if it were to play with the rules you yourself have established, and I am not acquiescing that they are correct, might think that you were being set up.”

“Yeah, I considered it. I’m still considering it. Do I trust her? Not really. Frankly, I don’t know who I can trust anymore. Well, except you, really. But like Jackson, I can play along without trusting her. And you know, it’s weird, but my gut tells me that she’s okay. I don’t have anything concrete to base it on. But she’s always been straight with me. My gut’s not like your scientific data, of course, but it’s all I have to go on.”

“You seem to navigate existence adequately with your instinct, Daniel. I cannot deny that.”

“Why, Rad, is that actually a compliment right there?”

Radhu did not respond to this question. “As an answer to your previous question, yes, I will hack into Delta Iota Kappa and snoop around, as the kids are wont to exclaim these days. I will let you know what I discover.”

“Thanks Rad. You don’t know how much I appreciate this. Please be careful, okay?”

“Only insofar as you are careful yourself, my friend.”

The following Friday late afternoon, Daniel was standing in the middle of his bedroom. He was nervous, he realized, and that was unexpected. This was just a friendly outing, a way to keep himself distracted, nothing more. Trying to maintain a semblance of normal life.

But there was no denying it, he was nervous. This was his first date in a long time. Except that it was not a date. He was still Jenn’s fiancé, would be until he could get her in front of him again and get the truth out of her. He was not even on board for some rebound sex, as Serena liked to call it. So why was he nervous?

He pondered for a second what to wear. He pulled out a jacket from the closet and tried it—casual, but still elegant. I’m being ridiculous, he thought. He shook his head, then frowned when he felt something heavy against his side. There was something in the jacket’s pocket.

He pulled out something that looked like an Olympic bronze medal attached to a leather string. It took two seconds before he recognized it. Memories from that night coming flooding back—the party thrown by the New American Deal Association last semester, the party that he and Radhu had crashed in their search for Marjorie, the party where Radhu had been grabbed, beaten, tied to a chair, and threatened with genital mutilation of a most horrible kind.

And at that party, they had those medallions, like the one he was now holding. One of the games that the NADA folks had organized. There had been one medallions for each cocktail waitress that had been going around offering drinks to guests. All beautiful, all wearing the Delta Iota Kappa silver charms bracelet, remembered Daniel. Another of those coincidences that Serena so casually dismissed.

The game was twisted in its simplicity. Wearing one of those medallions would allow you to order the girl associated with the medallion around, and she would do what you asked, without complaining. The game had degenerated fairly quickly into a veritable orgy. Daniel had wondered at the time how much the girls had been paid to be willing to participate in such a demeaning game. It must have been a generous amount, because if his recollections were correct, all the girls had seemed to play along without difficulty, if not with enthusiasm.

He looked at the medallion again, thinking about the relationship between the medallion, the events at the party, the bracelets—again, every cocktail waitress had such a bracelet at the NADA party—and Marjorie, and Jenn. Perhaps he needed to go and visit Marjorie, get her version of the events. Serena had said that she was resting at some sanatorium, somewhere.

However he drew it, the picture always smelled like something straight out of science fiction, with fumes of brainwashing and mind control. Which his ongoing research with Cindy showed was perhaps more achievable than he had ever thought possible.

He turned the medallion over, reading Cindy’s name engraved on the back. He remembered how, at the party, where she was serving as cocktail waitress, she had put that medallion around his neck herself, and offered him her body. The look in her eyes had been serious, determined, lusty. He was getting hard just remembering it. The image of Cindy spreading her pretty legs and holding them up by the knees, a look of wanton desire on her face, flashed in his mind. He took a deep breath. That was not the Cindy he knew. She never acted that way. Except that one time, when he had had this medallion around his neck. Of course, he had taken it off, but before he could do anything else the whole thing with Radhu came up and he must have stashed the medallion in his pocket without thinking, and there it had remained until now.

He stared at the medallion a while longer, trying still to make sense of it all, before dropping it on the dresser, where it lay over a heap of leather right next to Jenn’s engagement ring.

A few hours later, Daniel was approaching the Grill, an otherwise unassuming restaurant on College Avenue right where the Darnell Ghetto merged into the city of North Alexandria proper. It was a warm cloudless night, lots of people were mulling about, and everyone was cheerful, smiling, and friendly. The atypical February weather was having a tonic effect, fighting the blues that would otherwise typically shroud over all of New England.

“Dan!”

The voice snapped him out of his reverie. He had arrived. And there was Cindy. She had a broad smile on her face, and she stepped up and hugged him tight, pressing her little body against his and he hugged her back. Her hair, bunched in a ponytail, smelled of almonds.

She looked good, and he told her so. She smiled and did a little twirl. She was wearing a simple blue dress with large white polka dots, held up by a pair of spaghetti straps that left her shoulders bare but which she kept covered by a white scarf. The dress, unsurprisingly, barely reached the middle of her thighs, and a pair of impressively tall white spike heeled shoes added what looked like four inches to her diminutive height.

Cindy noticed his eyes trailing down to her feet and giggled. “Yeah, I don’t wear these often, but I guess I felt tonight was special. And they go so well with the dress, don’t you think?” And with that, she posed, legs apart, a hand on her hip, a glint that could only be described as mischievous in her eye.

“You look amazing, Cin.”

She practically blushed. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Daniel looked around.

“They’re inside already,” said Cindy.

“Should we, then?” he said, offering his arm. Cindy laughed again, but took his arm and together they walked into the restaurant, under the amused eyes of people around them.

There was a not entirely unexpected large crowd inside, it being Friday night and the restaurant being a fairly popular spot. It tried to tread the fine line between a pub-style joint and a moderate-class dress-up dining affair. Opinions were divided on whether it actually achieved that goal, but everyone agreed it had the best brochettes in town.

Nodding to the waiter at the welcoming desk, Cindy guided Daniel to a booth in the corner. Jackson and Kyra were already there. Jackson had Kyra’s hand in his, and was whispering something in her ear.

“You know, if we’re bothering you we can just leave you two alone,” said Cindy, approaching the booth.

Kyra jerked back from Jackson, blushing fiercely, and she stammered while Jackson grinned and shook his head. Cindy laughed in response, and sat down, with Daniel following suit.

“Hi Jackson. How are you?”

“I’m great, actually. Good to see you again, Daniel. How... how are you holding up?”

Daniel shrugged. “You know how it is—some days are good, some days are bad. Kyra, right?”

Kyra nodded. And then, right there, in a flash which in retrospect was probably prompted by the medallion he had found earlier in his jacket, he remembered why Kyra looked so familiar. Of course. She was Kyra, the cute redhead who had been a cocktail waitress at the NADA party, and whom he had spied in one of the upstairs rooms, getting taken by two partygoers and seemingly delighting in the rough treatment. How could he have not recognized her before? And could that image be reconciled with the friendly and seemingly shy girl currently in front of him?

She looked beautiful, with delicate features and high cheekbones, an easy smile, and piercing green eyes, all emphasized by her short red hair. Her shirt was off one shoulder, exposing a lightly freckled skin.

“Hi Daniel. Good to meet you. Actually,” she hesitated, “have we met before?”

“Well, we ran into each other a couple of weeks back at the cafe on campus.”

“No, before that. You look... I dunno... familiar?”

Well yes, Kyra, as a matter of fact, we met at a party once where you came on to me, thought Daniel, who instead simply said, “maybe at a party somewhere, but then again, I have a very common face.”

Kyra eyed him suspiciously, while Cindy elbowed him. “That’s so not true.”

Jackson turned to Kyra. “Daniel here has been going through a rough patch lately. His fiancée left him.” He turned to Daniel. “Sorry, man, but I believe in clearing the air.”

Daniel shrugged again. “It’s okay. It would have come out anyways.” He looked at Kyra. “Yes, she left about three week ago. With another man. Haven’t seen her since.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry. That must have hurt.” She extended her hand, put it on his. Her hands were slight, like the rest of her. “Did you know the guy?”

“Yeah, sorta.”

“It was Biff,” Jackson added, making a face.

“Biff? You mean Biff from—”

Jackson nodded.

“Yew?!” Kyra made a face of her own. “That guy gives me the creeps! That way he has of undressing you with his eyes...” She shivered.

Cindy took Daniel’s hand under the table and squeezed it. Daniel appreciated the support, but was still trying to figure out the game, if there was a game. Kyra looked genuinely disgusted, and Jackson looked bothered by Kyra’s statement, almost angry.

Despite the rocky start, dinner was a pleasant affair. Jackson and Kyra were an entertaining couple, and they seemed to be very much into each other. Jackson certainly had eyes only for her, and many a private smile were exchanged during the hour.

Daniel learned that Kyra was studying biology, but that her real passion was painting. She had no love for contemporary art, but was drawn to neoclassicism. Which she thought was hilarious. “Not only do I love doing something that has zero prospects for the future,” she said, “but I like doing it in a style that has been out of fashion for hundreds of years!” Hence the biology degree. She was not sure what she would do with it afterwards, though, but she was happy to cross that bridge when she got there. In the mean time, she had found herself a small job doing illustrations for a biology textbook written by one of her professors.

Jackson, Daniel remembered, was interested in sports physiology, and his path was somewhat clearer, at least in his own mind: he wanted to work for an NFL football franchise. When Cindy pointed out to him that the chances were astronomically small of that working out, Jackson replied that one of his uncles was manager of something or other for the Miami Dolphins, and that gave him an in.

While waiting for dessert, the girls left the table to go and freshen themselves up, and they laughed as they headed out to the restrooms, Cindy with her short dress bouncing on her high heels, Kyra with a pair of painted-on leather pants and boots. Several pairs of eyes followed them surreptitiously on their way, including Daniel’s and Jackson’s.

“Hope you don’t mind me spilling about your girl and stuff, man. I felt it was best.”

Daniel waved a hand. “It’s all right. Probably good that it’s out anyways. So... still no word on Biff?”

“Cindy passed the message along, right? That Biff was leaving town?”

Daniel nodded.

“Well, he’s gone, and no one’s heard anything from him. I’m not sure where he went, but word is, Jenn’s gone with him.”

Daniel nodded again.

“Weird thing is,” continued Jackson, “Bernie’s disappeared too. And that’s unexpected. I mean, the guy’s a fixture. Doesn’t have much of a family, so he tends to stick around the frat even when the brothers leave for holiday and stuff. But he’s been gone for weeks now.”

“Could he have gone with Biff? Were they close?”

“No one was close to Biff. And Bernie’s kind of the intellectual of the lot, and Biff always made fun of him and pushed him around. So I don’t really see Bernie having gone with Biff anywhere.”

Daniel had nothing to retort, and desserts arrived before he could follow up on that thread of conversation.

“So things seem to be going well with Kyra,” said Daniel.

Jackson’s eyes lit up like someone had flipped a switch. “She’s amazing! We’ve been hanging out for weeks now, and it’s still like I’m seeing her for the first time, you know? She’s beautiful and sweet. And you should see her paintings—she’s got talent pouring out of her ears! And not just for painting either. In bed, she’s—” He stopped, realized what he was saying, then looked sheepishly at Daniel, who had to laugh at the younger man’s face.

“It’s okay, Jackson. I can deal—people are going to keep on falling in love and having sex and generally be happy however miserable I feel about my own fucked up love life. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Look, I don’t know what your plans are, but you know that Cindy’s pretty sweet on you, and she may not be such a bad person to rebound with. I’m just saying, she’d understand. In fact, she probably expects it.”

Daniel shrugged. “I’m just not ready. She’s sweet, and she’s fun, but I can’t think past just hanging out, you know what I mean? No relationship, nothing complicated. I’m damaged goods, right now.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Who’s saying anything about a relationship? I’m saying how about you bring her home and, you know, do her? No strings attached, and I’m pretty sure she’d go for it. Especially if you played the sick puppy that needs TLC routine. I mean, you can’t tell me that you’re not attracted to her. Just her legs, man—wouldn’t you want to feel those legs wrapped around you?”

“I’m just not like that.”

“Maybe you should start.”

Shrugging, Daniel spied Cindy and Kyra returning from the restrooms. On the way they were stopped by a tall woman with raven hair wearing a long leather coat. They talked for a few minutes, and then the woman went on her way, navigating to the restaurant’s exit. The girls returned to the table.

“Oh goodie! Desserts are here!” Cindy dropped next to Daniel and attacked her banana split, while Kyra looked on, amused.

“I don’t know how you manage not to gain twenty pounds when you go out, Cin.”

“High metabolism,” she replied. She turned to Daniel. “Want some?” she offered him her spoon, dripping with ice cream and warm chocolate.

“No thanks, I’m full.”

“Pfft... amateur.” And she slid the spoon in her mouth, and pulled it out slowly, her eyes on Daniel’s, and the movement had such a suggestive quality to it that he felt a flicker of arousal, instantly followed by a flicker of guilt.

“By the way,” asked Daniel, turning to look at the exit. “Who was that?”

“Who?”

“The woman you talked to two seconds ago?”

Cindy shrugged. “Just some woman that was asking for directions to the city center. Why?”

“No reason, really. Just thought I’d seen her around.”

“She had wonderful eyes,” added Kyra, leaning her head against Jackson’s shoulder, “steel blue, almost the color of ice, but tonally rich. I could never paint that.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, babe,” replied Jackson. “Now, guys, I don’t know what you’ve got planned for after dinner, but there’s this party that a friend is throwing a few blocks down, and it might be the perfect way to cap the evening.”

“Not a Delta Iota Kappa party, is it?” asked Cindy, an eye on Daniel.

“No way. A friend of mine from sports physio. Bit of a geek, but throws decent parties. Wanna come?”

Cindy looked at Daniel. “What do you say?”

Daniel shrugged. “I dunno...”

“Come on, man,” prodded Jackson. “Betcha anything it’ll be a fun evening.”