The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

THE ATTACHMENT

Chapter 10

by Abacab

Jim’s eyes popped open, unwillingly, barely. He instantly brought a hand to his face to block out the pain of sunlight.

Adjusting to the light, rubbing his face, he looked at his alarm clock.

10:16am. Shit.

He reached for his phone to call the boss... then, as he held the phone in his hands, remembered that had all been taken care of already, twelve-ought hours prior. Breathing a groggy sigh of temporary relief, he noticed the notification light blinking.

On unlocking the screen: four messages, all from Julia.

6:32am: Just want u to know that E is fine. All taken care of now. She remembers nothing. Told u so. She won’t be at work today. Im going home now.

6:57am: Just got home. So tired. Can’t wait to make use of u myself after seeing u in action last nite. >:)

6:58am: Should pencil u in tonight, u and i probably still have some work to get out of the way so we can start having fun by this weekend.

6:59am: Lets have dinner and “talk” after u get off work. Text me back this aft. Going to sleep now so ill be all ready for u later. Hope ur ready for me.

Jim tossed the phone aside, walked to the kitchen to start the coffeemaker, jumped into the shower.

* * *

He slipped into his cubicle at 12:57pm, unheralded, unquestioned, unnoticed. Once at work, he wondered why he’d even bothered coming in. He hadn’t been functional, not even remotely useful at work for a full week now; he hadn’t been able to get his mind back on work since the night Julia had first “talked him through” her video attachment the week before. At some point, he was sure someone would notice how little he had been accomplishing recently. And today... today, Jim knew he would be more useless than ever.

An hour slipped by at his desk. He opened a few files, examined their contents, closed them, having done nothing with them. His fingers drummed aimlessly, endlessly on the desktop as he sat, head in his other hand, staring into nothing.

He got up and went to the break room. The coffee pot was empty. Jim was relieved to have to make a fresh pot. Now he had a good excuse to stand there doing nothing and staring at the floor for at least ten more minutes.

He stood with his back against the countertop, still drumming his fingers aimlessly upon it. The break room countertop was a more sonically pleasing percussion instrument than his cubicle desk.

As the pot finally filled to the brim, the machine coughing up puffs of steam from the filter basket, Jim took his time detaching himself from the countertop before lazily locating a clean styrofoam cup.

He looked at his watch as he poured slowly from the coffee pot. 2:24pm... two more hours of this, of doing nothing... trying to find a way to do nothing and still not be noticed doing nothing.

As he walked to the refrigerator for the creamer, the phone in his pocket buzzed and bonked.

K i am up now. Feel like i was hit by a truck. Did u make it to work? Are u up for dinner tonight? Ill buy, u earned it.

He sighed, stuffed the phone back in his pocket.

* * *

Another hour of drumming on the desk, of staring into space in the cubicle. He’d gotten up and returned to the break room to get a refresher on his coffee twice, although he really hadn’t taken more than a tiny sip or two in the last hour.

Buzz; bonk.

Im beginning to think u might be ignoring my texts. Are u gonna make me beg to see u?

Jim looked away from the phone. He enjoyed a few more minutes of staring into nothingness before the phone tried again to get his attention.

Just remember. I don’t have to beg. I don’t beg for anything ever. I bet I can get u to beg for something pretty quick tho. >:) Dinner @ 630 ok? LMK real soon.

Jim narrowed his eyes, looked aside, away. His fingers had just come up with an incredible new groove. He’d been getting pretty into it.

A few more minutes passed. Jim suddenly remembered an easy task that needed tending to, a few departmental documents he’d promised his boss that he’d update in a couple of places, just sitting on the server. It might be nice to feel like he’d managed to achieve just one fucking thing that afternoon.

He rolled the chair over to his machine, fired up the browser, began poking around the company intranet portal. Said portal was terribly laid out and organized, as always. Probably take me ten times longer to just find the damn docs than it will take me to fix them...

The phone buzzed... once, twice, thrice, four, five times in quick succession, dancing wildly across the desktop.

“Goddammit,” Jim said aloud to himself. He turned, unlocked, looked at the screen, saw the messages all at once.

Jim cannot resist Julia’s spell. He mustn’t ever, ever try. Trying to resist is foolish now, Jim’s subconscious mind knows. Jim’s subconscious knows Julia now controls Jim’s subconscious entirely.

Jim’s subconscious knows that resistance never works, that there will always be consequences. As punishment this time, Jim will be frozen.

Now: Sleep for Julia. Sleep for Julia. Sleep for Julia.

Jim hears Julia’s voice (sleep for Julia). Jim (sleep for Julia) hears Julia’s fingers snap. SNAP. (Sleep for Julia.) Jim falls. He falls deep, falls hard.

Jim’s eyes slam shut, lock tight. Jim knows he sleeps for Julia. Then Jim is frozen. Jim has no choice.

Before Jim had even a moment to marvel at the comparative cleanliness and clarity of Julia’s latest messages vs. her usual, his eyelids abruptly crashed. They glued themselves down hard, his eyeballs now jerking rapidly, violently, bouncing relentlessly back and forth in his skull. He bit his lip hard, tried to force his eyelids back open. They would not open. He tried again, then again, with identical results each time.

The more frustrated and angry Jim became, the harder his eyelids seemed to resist his efforts. The rapid, forceful, spasmodic jerking of his eyeballs only increased with every further concerted effort to force his eyelids open. The facial muscles beneath his eye sockets shortly joined in, convulsing on their own, tensing up rigidly, applying their own resistance to ensure Jim’s eyelids remained firmly shut.

Jim wondered if he might be able to pry his eyelids open from the outside using his hands. Ordering his arms to arise, then noting with alarm that they didn’t seem to be going anywhere, he soon realized that both of his hands were helplessly grasping the armrests of his chair. He repeatedly ordered his fingertips to relinquish their death grip on the armrests, but these orders also seemed to go unheard.

He began to panic. The harder he tried, the less he seemed to be able to break himself free, the less he found himself in control of his own body. His muscles’ ongoing flagrant disobedience quickly led him from anger to outright terror. Jim imagined the building burning around him, pictured himself still helplessly paralyzed in his chair as the flames moved in on his cubicle from all sides.

Julia. Julia did this somehow. She put this, hardcoded this into me. I never knew what she was doing. I never heard a word of it.

And the worst part is that I let her do it. I let her do all of it, just for the promise of a great lay. I trusted her. I trusted her completely, I let her take control. Now I can’t take it back. I can never take any of it back.

The deafening terror and rage filling Jim’s head somehow dropped a small part of him off at a sudden moment of clarity. He realized that his body might somehow be under Julia’s control at the moment, but his mind was still operating more or less freely. In his current predicament and circumstance, Julia was also unable to provide him with any further input, unable to keep burying him deeper in trance with her words this time.

Jim wondered whether, if he could just step back a little, allow himself to relax slightly, if he might be able to reconnect to the parts of himself that were currently working for Julia, subsequently regaining control of his own body. He realized it might be a risky move, that allowing himself to relax might cause him to go deeper, or leave him vulnerable to some other forgotten posthypnotic suggestion that might lock him up even further.

But there was nothing else for it. Fighting Julia’s premeditated bodily mutiny with all his available might and anger wasn’t getting him very far.

Jim took a long, deep breath, checked to make sure he was still himself. Relieved to find none of his current intentions or motivations had suddenly changed as a result, he took another deep breath, let it out slowly. He allowed his mind to slowly clear, letting the scattershot torrent of panicked thoughts recede on its own gradually, refusing to engage nor indulge the panic any further.

Jim is in control again. Jim hears only his own voice now, loud, booming, soothing in his head, calming him, becoming calm, becoming entirely focused. Jim is calm. Jim is calm because Jim knows he is in control now.

Jim is unfreezing. Jim is unfreezing. Jim is coming unfrozen. Jim’s fingertips are working free, easily, all by themselves.

He felt his fingertips slowly loosening, then releasing their grip on the armrests. He considered whether he should once again try to raise his newly-freed arms and force his eyelids open with his hands. That idea seemed borne of the past moments’ panic. Having made some notable progress, Jim was not about to let the panic seize him a second time should he fail. He opted for a less desperate, more natural approach as a start.

Yes. Yes, Jim knows, Jim is learning that he is completely back in control. Jim has proven that he is in control. And Jim is more and more in control with every passing second. Jim’s eyes are now unfreezing. They are lightening, loosening, floating. They are opening. Opening. Opening all on their own.

Jim felt the jerking in his eyes gradually slowing, easing. Soon his eyes cracked open slightly.

I am in control. I’m unfrozen. I’m unfrozen now. More and more. Back to normal. Back in control. Totally in control now. Totally awake, totally unfrozen.

His eyes finally opened fully. Jim immediately stood from his chair, stretched vigorously, flexed every muscle, breathed a long sigh of relief.

He looked at the clock on the computer screen, noted that only ten minutes had passed. Hopefully none of his workmates had witnessed him sleeping or, worse, struggling against his own body’s resistance during his frozen state.

Looking toward his phone, still sitting next to his computer keyboard where he’d dropped it in the immediate wake of Julia’s last messages, he realized his next problem. The messages from Julia that had frozen him in place were still there, waiting just behind the lockscreen. He would need to find a way to get them out of his way so they wouldn’t affect him a second time. Paradoxically, this would require looking directly at Julia’s commands to his subconscious a second time so as to be able to delete them.

Jim wasn’t sure what approach might guarantee an ongoing “unfrozen” state as he faced the prospect of facing the dangerous messages head-on for deletion. He decided it might be safest to go with an approach that acknowledged Julia’s apparent reach into his subconscious.

I have been punished. I have been punished sufficiently. I have already been frozen, and it was terrifying. Julia only wanted, only needed me to be frozen once, just for a moment so I would remember who was in control. Her messages, which froze me, are no longer current, no longer need to be obeyed. She wants me to free myself, so I can see and await her further instruction. I can delete her messages safely. That is what Julia wants me to do, to be able to do.

Jim kept repeating these things to himself for a few minutes. He took, held a deep breath, unlocked the phone, bringing Julia’s messages back onto the screen all at once, just as before.

Jim felt his head grow slightly but immediately fuzzy upon seeing them again, upon seeing the words “Sleep for Julia.” He focused on his repeating internal public service announcements, pictured himself turning up a volume control on his own imaginary voice, pressed ahead as quickly as he could. Delete message. Confirm, yes. Delete message. Confirm, yes. Delete message...

...It is over. My punishment is over. I await further instruction. But now, for now, I am in control.

Jim gently dropped the phone again, let his head fall, exhaled, smiled, felt like he’d just disarmed a bomb without knowing with certainty which wire might cause the thing to explode.

He wondered why he’d just said the thing to himself about “awaiting further instruction,” since he was now hellbent on ignoring any and all “further instruction” from Julia if he ever found himself with anything like a choice in the matter. He reckoned he had said it to himself because had felt like the one thing that the part still beholden to Julia really needed to hear, like he was simply lying to himself just to appease that treasonous part of his head, so that it might let him get completely free, let him stay awake, let him survive...

Oh, man, this is... fucked. This is just... so... fucked.

As his senses all continued to return, Jim noticed something even worse: a half-mast erection, a palpable sticky moistness in the vicinity. He’d actually been hard while frozen. Part of him had been turned on during all of that. Part of him had still been seriously aroused by the notion of being fully under Julia’s control, of the all-consuming fight that he’d had to endure just to be himself again.

Buzz; bonk.

Jim steeled himself: I remain in control. I will remain fully in control. Eventually convinced he was as ready and strong as the other parts of him would ever allow, he picked up the phone to read the screen.

Learned ur lesson now I bet. U have a little free time now to decide what sounds good to eat. Ill call u around 545 or 6. U will answer if u know what’s good for u. >:)

Jim bit his lip again,. He backed out of the message thread with Julia, reached into his desk drawers for a roll of masking tape, placing a few pieces just over the notification windowshade at the top of the phone’s screen, in idle hopes of keeping Julia’s further messages from being displayed to him there upon arrival.

He looked at his PC screen, the company intranet portal still open in front of him. He clicked on the sidebar link for the company directory; at least one thing on this fucking page was relatively sensible and easy to find.

Met with a query field, he thought for a moment, trying to recall the inaccessible information he’d need to make use of the search. J... J something. Fuck, I know this... c’mon, I KNOW this.

A voice inside him suggested he try “Jantzen.” Jim did so, looking over the short resultant set of search results.

He picked up his phone, looked back at the PC screen, typed a number from the screen into the phone.

Hey, it’s Jim. I don’t know if you remember how much I like jazz. I’d like to hang out and listen to some right after work if you’re interested.