The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

This story is a work of adult fiction and contains sexually explicit material that some may find offensive. If you are not at least 18 years of age (or the age of consent for your locality), or if you object to sexual situations, you must exit now.

All characters and events in this story are fictional, any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

The author reserves all rights to this work. It may be freely distributed, posted and archived electronically only in its entirety including all header material. It may not be sold in whole or in any part, or as part of an electronic document, printed material, voice recording or in any other manner without the written permission of the author.

Alien Son

Chapter 11: Las Vegas, Nevada—Part 5

I was awakened by the morning sun shining through the window, bright in Las Vegas even this late in the year. Looking at my watch on the table, I saw it was a little before 9:30. Stretching, vaguely remembering bumping into the soft flesh of one or the other sister as we slept together last night, I realized I was alone.

Opening the door, stepping into the hall, I heard movement in the kitchen. I ducked into the bathroom, and when I came out, Kim, wearing a tee-shirt and cotton panties, was waiting for me, a mug of coffee in her hand.

“Morning, darling,” she said, handing me the mug, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. “Do you want breakfast now?”

Without answering, I put my arm around Kim’s waist, enjoying her clean scent as we walked into the kitchen. Kristen, wearing a half tee-shirt nearly identical to the one she had on last night and thong panties, at the open refrigerator, holding three eggs in her hand, turned toward us, her dark eyes looking into mine, then down. “We’ve only got three eggs,” she said. Then, smiling up at me, “Rob, you can have them all.”

One arm around Kim, I placed my other arm around Kristen, pulling her to me gently, kissing her on the lips. Smiling, “One egg for each of us will be fine, but first, I need a shower,” I said.

“I know, we can make french toast,” Kim said. “Three eggs will make plenty of french toast. Do you like french toast, Rob?”

“I love french toast,” I answered, heading for the bathroom.

I took a quick shower, then realized I had left the razor and toothbrush I bought at Penney’s in the Expedition. I dressed in the same clothes I wore yesterday. As I walked out of the bathroom, I smelled bacon frying. In the kitchen, Kim was just finishing setting the table, Kristen at the stove.

Kim came over to me, wrapping her arm around my waist, “Hope you’re hungry. It’ll be ready in a few minutes,” pressing herself against me.

Bending forward, gently rubbing my whiskers on her cheek, “Like an idiot, I left my razor in the Expedition. I better shave first.”

“Don’t worry,” Kim said, rubbing her cheek over my whiskers. “We don’t mind,” then, to Kristen, “Do we?”

“I think it’s manly ... sexy,” Kristen said, turning from the stove, rubbing her palm over my whiskers.

My left arm around Kim, I encircled Kristen’s waist with my right arm, my fingers just brushing the top of her panties. I watched Kristen’s eyes close as I pulled her to me, our lips meeting. Her tongue touched mine, then, with a sigh withdrew as I turned to kiss Kim briefly on the lips, our tongues meeting for a moment.

“Come on, let’s eat,” I said, directing the girls toward the table. “I’ve got a lot to do today. We’ll have time enough for that later.”

Breakfast was pleasant, if a little quiet. I sensed the worry in the two sisters about my safety, with Kristen also concerned about the kind of relationship I would allow her to have with me.

After breakfast, I took my coffee into the living room watching CNN until they played the story of the Santa Barbara killings again—it was the same story as last night. I decided there was no point in watching any more and went out to the parking lot.

After checking I wasn’t being observed—few residents were around this time of day—I cleaned out the Expedition, bringing up all my belongings and anything that could link the vehicle to me. I had even forgotten my dad’s Glock. I swore to myself I wouldn’t ever be so careless again.

When I went back up to the apartment Kim and Kristen were still in the kitchen, Kim at the table, Kristen standing, talking on the phone. “No, not today,” she said into the phone. Then, “I don’t know ... I’ll let you know.”

Kim followed me into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. As I began lathering my face, she was sitting on the toilet lid, looking up, “We’re both staying home today—Kristen and me, to be with you.”

“Thanks,” smiling at her. “I appreciate it.”

“That was Kristen’s boyfriend on the phone just now. He wanted to know why she wasn’t going to school today,” pausing, looking up at me expectantly. I continued shaving.

“She wants to be one of your girls, like me ... like Claudia, like Bobbi.”

That surprised me, “So you know about Bobbi and Claudia?”

“Yes, your ... your father told them about me. They called me, then we talked ... several times more. I like them. We talked together ... a lot.”

“And what did you talk about?”

“About you. About how crazy we are about you. About how nice it would be if we could all be together to take care of you ... to make you happy.”

Where did this come from? My dad couldn’t have done this to Kim, I must be responsible. A quick scan revealed it was a combination of the love and desire for me I had instilled in Kim combined with the effect of my aura that transformed her into the kind of girl who would so willingly submit herself to me, devote herself to my happiness, gladly share me with others. I was doing what my father did, using my powers to create a harem. Again looking at her, “So you talked about us all being together?”

“Yeah, we talked about how nice it would be if we could all be together, you and me and Claudia and Bobbi. Don’t you think it would be nice if Kristen was with us, to be one of your girls too?”

Shaving, “So you think three girls aren’t enough for me?”

Her voice taking a more serious tone, “Rob, three ... four, as many as you want. As many as you need ... as many as you need to make you happy. We just want to belong to you and make you happy. You know, you’re a very unusual man, extraordinary. We feel lucky, honored to be chosen by you.”

“And where would we all live ... me and my harem?”

“They, Claudia and Bobbi, told me about your father’s ranch. We talked about what it would be like if we could all be together there ... with you. How we would help you ... make you happy. But now ...”

“Well,” I said, smiling. “It might still be possible. I’ll think about it.”

“And Kristen?”

“I’ll think about her too.”

In the living room, Kim gave me the keys to her car, then gave me directions to a canal where I could dump the evidence. The girls sat on the couch, silently watching as I slipped the Glock into my waistband, pulling out my shirt to cover the bulge. Kim stood, kissing me gently on the lips, “Rob, I love you. Be careful, please.”

Kristen kissed me too. Then, her arms around my shoulders, her big dark eyes looking into mine, “I ... I love you too,” she whispered.

Kim’s car was a fairly new Dodge Neon. It took a while to drive to the canal, on the edge of the city. I pulled off the road, made sure no one was looking, and flung the heavy bag as far out over the water as I could. I paused for a moment to watch the bag sink beneath the surface, then headed for downtown Las Vegas.

Scanning a cop in a patrol car, I found out the Las Vegas Police Department and County Sheriff’s office were consolidated years ago. I also learned where the Sheriff’s headquarters was located. Parking at a 7-11 a couple of blocks away, I bought a newspaper, then sitting in my car with the newspaper open in front of me as a kind of camouflage (no news about the Santa Barbara murders in the paper), I began scanning the captains and lieutenants in the Sheriff’s office. Though they had been notified about the murders at the Santa Barbara ranch and told to look out for the Expedition, surprisingly, they didn’t know anything about me and they knew nothing about who might have been responsible for the massacre.

From the Sheriff’s office I found out where the Las Vegas FBI office was located. Parked a few blocks away, again with the newspaper open in front of me, I scanned the FBI higher ups. They knew about the massacre, and they speculated the murders at the ranch were related to my father’s position at the UN—he was on the Secretary General’s staff. And they knew about me. They knew I had been at the ranch and they knew my body wasn’t found there. But whether I was connected somehow to the murderers, or had been kidnapped, they didn’t know. And, outside of vague suspicions about terrorists, they had no idea of who might have been responsible.

I was disturbed that they didn’t have any information to help me discover my enemies. I stayed where I was, not seeing the newspaper in front of me as I considered my options. I could go to DC, or New York. I might be able to find out something about the enemy aliens there. Or, I could go back to Santa Barbara. I could easily drive there in Kim’s car. Maybe with my powers I would be able to discover something the police missed, or combine some facts, some clues, that would help me find my enemies ... to destroy them. Yes, I decided, that’s what I would do. I would go back. I wouldn’t be running away any more. This would be my first step in achieving my vengeance.

I stopped at a clothing store and bought—with cash—two changes of clothing, then headed back to Kim’s apartment. I decided I would spend the night there, then head back to Santa Barbara in the morning. I knew spending another night with the two sisters would be good for me, like it had been good for me last night. I couldn’t decide yet what to do about Kristen, whether I would let her become one of my girlfriends ... a member of my harem, like she wanted, but that wasn’t my most important problem now. She could wait.

Pulling into the apartment lot, something didn’t seem right. Whether it was my human sixth sense or some power the aliens had given me, I sensed danger. Instead of pulling into Kim’s assigned space, I drove off to the side, parking in a visitor’s space. Without getting out of the car, I mentally reached out to Kim. At first, I couldn’t find her, her consciousness was so much altered. When I finally discovered her, it was like a shriek ... a shriek of terror. She was overwhelmed with terror, and Kristen was the same.

Neither of them could think of anything but the fear that filled them. It took time, several minutes sitting there in Kim’s car, but I was able to calm them and begin to get an idea of what happened. They were tied to kitchen chairs, their arms behind them, blindfolded.

I couldn’t be sure when it happened, their thoughts were too jumbled, but some time after I left the men suddenly appeared in the apartment. The girls didn’t know how they got in. They tied the girls, blindfolded them, then forced them to tell everything they knew about me. The girls were so frightened torture wasn’t necessary.

There were two men—quiet, apparently at ease, speaking occasionally in a foreign language the girls didn’t recognize. They were waiting for me. I sent out mental probes toward the men, but I could sense nothing. It was like they weren’t there—they were blocked, like me and my dad.

First pumping a round into the chamber, I slipped my dad’s Glock into my waistband, then slowly opened the door and got out of the car. I ducked into the shadow of a second floor balcony. Staying in the shade, I slowly made my way to the stairway. The parking lot was quiet, most residents still at work or school.

A movement at the corner of the building, close to where I parked the Expedition, caught my eye. I reached out with my mind, but could sense nothing. Sticking close to the wall, still in the shade, I moved past the stairway toward where I had seen that hint of movement. I stopped, my back flat against the wall, warned again by that sixth sense.

He stepped out from the corner, thin, dressed in black, his movements slow, deliberate, something about him made me think of the Ninjas I had read about and seen in films. Again, I sent a mental probe toward the man I knew was my enemy, but there was nothing there I could sense—he was blocked too.

Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head to the right, away from me, looking intently. I moved my hand to my waistband, reaching for my pistol.

I don’t know how, but he knew I was there. He was on me, fast, silent, his arms pinning mine, preventing me from pulling out the gun. I spun around, banging him against the concrete wall. His grip loosened and I was able to break away, reaching for my gun.

He lashed out with his feet, and I fell back as he leaped on me, butting my jaw with the top of his head. Together, we fell to the sidewalk ... hard.

He was on top of me, but I was able to free my right arm. I rolled half out from under him, pulling out the pistol. He was on me again.

I pressed the muzzle against his stomach pulling the trigger. There was the sound of a small “whump.” He didn’t stop. I pulled the trigger again, another soft “whump.” He stopped moving, his eyes growing dull. Then, with a soft sigh, he was dead.

Standing, breathing hard, my hands trembling, I looked around making sure no one noticed what happened, then down at the man I killed ... the first man I killed. He looked almost boyish now, as his features relaxed in death. He might be Asian, or maybe Mexican—high cheek bones, the epicanthic fold to his eyes, short, bristly black hair. I searched his pockets, finding a knife, a little money, and a wallet containing only a California driving license with his photo and bearing what looked to me like an Asian name.

I looked around, scanned, but no one had observed our fight. A quick probe of the girls revealed they hadn’t heard the shots and weren’t aware of any reaction from their captors. At the same time, I influenced the girls, making sure they were calm enough for what I planned.

Quietly, I climbed the steps. Though the blinds were closed, I ducked down, crawling past the window. Standing at the apartment door, I hesitated for a moment. I was afraid. Taking a deep breath, my gun in my hand, I raised my right leg, then kicked in the door, my enhanced muscles letting me accomplish what otherwise would have been impossible.

As the door crashed open, and I half fell into the room, the girls cried out. The first Ninja, his knife open, was lunging at me. Still off balance, I jumped back, raising my gun, holding it in both hands, I shot him in the face.

The second Ninja, bending low, his knife ready, was charging toward me. As I moved back, turning to point my pistol, Kristen kicked her feet out. The Ninja stumbled, allowing me to put two bullets into his back.

Both the Ninjas were dead. I had killed three of my enemies. Whether these were all of them, I had no way of knowing, though, somehow, I suspected they must have been the ones responsible for the killings at the ranch.

The girls were sobbing, hugging me as soon as they were released. I was feeling a little shaky too, now that it looked like it was over ... at least for now. “How did you trip that guy?” I asked Kristen, a small quaver in my voice.

Still sobbing, “I ... I ... I could ... could see his feet through a crack in the bottom of my blindfold.”

“Good girl,” I said, tightening my arm around her.

I looked at the two men I just killed. Like the one in the lot, they were dressed in dark clothes and looked Asian. Downstairs, in the parking lot, a small crowd was gathering. Then we heard the sound of sirens moving into the lot.

“Quick,” I said, using my powers to calm the girls and make sure they would behave how I wanted. “We need to get our story straight.”

Our story was that at the ranch I was kidnapped by the Ninjas and brought to Las Vegas in the Expedition, that I didn’t know Kim or Kristen, it was just their bad luck the Ninjas decided to hide out in their apartment. Taking advantage of the kidnappers’ overconfidence, I was able to grab my father’s gun they had taken from the ranch, shooting them and then freeing the girls. The girls understood the story (it wasn’t very complicated), and with my powers I could be sure they would repeat it convincingly.

Within seconds, two officers, their guns out, were up the stairs and coming through the open door. The girls and I were standing still, our hands up, the Glock on the coffee table. With my powers, I was able to keep the officers’ fingers off their triggers, willing to listen to our story.

More officers arrived, followed by detectives and the crime scene investigators. When I glanced down to the parking lot, I saw it almost full of patrol cars, ambulances, CSI vans, and vehicles from a variety of news organizations. We refused to answer reporters’ questions as we were led downstairs and ushered into patrol cars, the girls in one and I in another. At least they didn’t put handcuffs on us, I made sure of that.

At the sheriff’s, we were taken to different rooms for questioning. Of course with my powers, all their efforts to keep us from communicating with each other were useless. Through over two hours of interrogation, I was able to make sure all three of us told the same story. And despite the huge discrepancies between what we were telling them and the evidence, in the end the Las Vegas detectives and FBI Special Agents believed our story.

Aaron Evans was a big man—tall, with broad shoulders, a big belly, but hard, his complexion dark, his gray hair cut short. He was standing, his daughters, Kim and Kristen, and Marta, their mother, were sitting on the hard chairs placed around the walls of the waiting room in the sheriff’s headquarters.

As I walked into the room, an officer following, the girls got out of their chairs, coming to me, hugging, pressing themselves tight to me. “Are you sure you didn’t know him before?” their father asked, looking at me.

“Daddy, Rob saved our lives,” Kristen said.

“We’re just grateful for what he did for us,” Kim said, looking from me to her father.

“Well, I guess I better thank you properly for saving my girls,” he said, thrusting his huge hand toward me.

As we were shaking hands, “Me, too,” said Mrs. Evans, now standing next to her husband, looking like about half his size. She was slight, with short dark hair, still attractive even her mid-40s. I shook hands with her, too, simultaneously influencing the mother and father not to interfere with my relationship with their daughters.

Touching my arm, “We better go, Mr. Mannheim,” the officer said, leading me out of the room.

The hotel they took me to wasn’t the quality of Caesar’s Palace, but it was good enough. I was being held as a material witness until I could be picked up by the Santa Barbara police tomorrow. The officer outside the door of my hotel room was friendly—and cooperative enough after I used my power on him.

I called up the shop downstairs, ordering a change of clothes, toothbrush and razor. Inspecting all my purchases first, the guard knocked on the door and handed them in to me.

I showered, noticing my bruised ribs and other injuries seemed to be healing already (another advantage the aliens had given me), changed clothes, ordered dinner from room service. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast with the girls, that seemed days away now, not just the few hours ago it really was.

I called Louise. Of course, she had been questioned about the killings and had been informed of what happened since—my disappearance, escape and status as a material witness. My dad’s funeral would be on Monday, and his children, women, grandchildren were already arriving. “Rob, I need your help handling all this,” Louise said, almost sobbing.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow or Sunday.”

“Dr. Meisner said he tried to call you at the ranch, but ... uh ... by then it was too late. Do you want him to call you there, at the hotel?”

“No,” I knew my phone was tapped. “I’ll talk to him when I get there. You just take it easy, Louise, everything’s gonna be alright.”

“All right, Rob,” she said, her voice seeming a little calmer. “It’s just everything seems to be happening at once.”

After we ended the call, I watched the story of our escape on the local news. I was worried someone might notice the inconsistencies between the story we told the authorities and the facts, but they kind of glossed over any discrepancies. They made me seem like a hero for rescuing the girls (and myself) and killing the Ninjas. I can’t say I minded that. The news over, I turned off the tv, closed the drapes and fell asleep.