The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


by “URN My Power


Valorie checked the connections again while her twin sister, Maggie, watched the monitor. “There it is!” Maggie exclaimed. Valorie looked up from the loose capacitor she was holding down with one finger. Sure enough, where Maggie’s image had been on the screen was now covered with a light-pink shape that extended just a little beyond her skin. Their “control” subject, a sorority girl whose boobs cost more than the twins’ car, looked up from doing her nails. “I think we need to adjust the transparency, though.”

“I think we need to get it to work when I’m NOT holding the capacitor down.” Valorie replied.

“Oh, did the solder come loose again?” Maggie asked.

“What is that, anyway? A nerd detector?” the sorority girl asked.

“Maggie, did you remember to include that clause in her contract that lets us deduct from her fee when she makes snarky comments?”

“Sorry, sis.” Maggie replied, handing her sister the soldering iron. “I accidentally gave her one of the old ones.”

“Better luck next time, kiddies.” their subject chimed.

“We’re not kids!” Valorie exclaimed.

“Yeah, we’ll be eighteen in less than a week.” Maggie added.

“Happy birthday!” the sorority girl responded sarcastically. Valorie held down the capacitor until the solder hardened again before closing the special camera’s case. She and her sister were both taking a dual major in physics and mythology. They were convinced that there was more to stories about magic and gods than merely primitive humans trying to explain what they couldn’t comprehend. Their childhoods had convinced them, and they aimed to convince others. Maggie adjusted the transparency on the computer until her features could be discerned behind her pink aura. “Look! You’ve detected two nerds! Congratulations!” the sorority girl said when Valorie moved into the camera’s view, her robin’s-egg blue aura now clearly visible.

“Maggie, give the Muggle her money so she can leave.” Valorie said.

“Kupo?” Maggie chimed.

“That’s Muggle, not Moogle.” Valorie giggled. The joke had soothed her frazzled nerves, however—as her twin had known it would. Maggie handed their subject a hundred-dollar bill and waved her away.

“Easiest money I ever made.” the girl said as she left. “Outta my way, lesbo-litter!” she snarled as her path was briefly obstructed by Chelsea Smith and Chelsea Smithe, each of whom was pushing a twin stroller with two babies in it.

The camera confirmed what the girls had only sensed on an intuitive level before. Around the women’s heads were strange clouds. Superimposed over Chelsea Smithe’s human appearance was a catlike humanoid shape, as if she was really some anime catgirl brought to life. The four children in the strollers and the baby in Smith’s womb glowed brightly.

“Stop recording, I want to crop that clip.” Valorie said. Identical locks of mousy, brown hair fell into identical bifocal-shrouded eyes. Maggie nodded once, rescuing her glasses from falling to the floor, and began entering commands into the keyboard.

* * *

Scheris was a long time waking up. Her body and mind were still worn out from their joyous work-out of the night before. Her spirit still sang with lingering traces of the supernova of ecstasy that had put her out. The scratching of a pencil on an art pad impinged on her consciousness, and she opened one eye. Master was sketching the bed and its occupants from a corner. She closed her eye again and reposed her face to avoid messing it up. Ina made soft snoring sounds up near the headboard, where she had wound up curled around a body pillow. Lita was in a loose fetal position at the foot. Shiko and Hato were sixty-nined to Scheris’ left, and Kamilah was about to fall off the right side.

“It’s okay to move, Scheris.” Master whispered. Scheris stretched and gently moved Kamilah to a safer position. She crawled out of bed and knelt at her owner’s feet, nuzzling his upper thigh. Her body was already readying itself to respond to any command he could give. He ran his fingers through her hair. “You girls sure know how to console a guy.” he said, caressing her. “Whose turn is it to make breakfast this morning?”

“Mine.” she said, kissing his palm as she rose. He nodded his head for her to proceed, and she padded naked down the stairs, putting on an apron and opening the refrigerator. Camber cried out from the nursery. Scheris had assembled the ingredients by the time someone quieted him. She nodded to herself. Instant gratification wasn’t good for a child, or so her mother had always told her.

Scheris scrambled eggs, fried two packages of fajita chicken and combined them on tortillas with cheese and picante sauce, arranging the portions around the table next to the milk and orange juice, then wrote down a list of the things they were out of or nearly so. The ninjas came in from their work-out while Scheris was cleaning the cooking dishes. A few moments after she finished, the smell of food succeeded in drawing the rest of the harem downstairs. Master came down with two cuddled in each arm. Steve and his wife arrived and took their customary place.

“Cool!” Steve said, and nodded acknowledgement to Scheris. Claudia wolfed down her food and went to the fridge for more.

“I’m afraid we’re out of ice cream and pickles.” Scheris said.

“I know, I ate the last of it last night.”

“Where are the Chelseas?” Hato asked.

“Early test.” Charlie responded. “One of their professors is a sadist.”

“Both of them? I didn’t think they had any classes in common.”

“Japanese Composition and Rhetoric, I believe.” Charlie said. “The difference is, it’s an elective for Smithe.” Claudia assembled ingredients from the fridge, ranging from frozen fish fillets, leftover pork chops and potato salad to taco shells and gummi bears.

“I’d better go with whoever’s doing the shopping. Might need more than one car.” Steve said.

“Good thinking.” Charlie acknowledged. His watch beeped, and he got up, kissing Scheris before he went to the other side for his classes.

* * *

“Kicking Ass for Fun and Profit,” her book cover proclaimed. It was a novelty fake book cover, but considering the real contents, apropos. Sheena had many spellbooks, including several she’d drawn up herself, copying spells from more generalized books into specialized collections. One was completely dedicated to death-spells, another specialized in enslaving her victims’ minds, hearts, bodies and/or souls, another was for trap-spells, yet another was for summonings.

“I could have beaten him a dozen times by now.” boasted Jean-Paul d’Arc, a journeyman with a nose like a turd someone had slapped onto his face and painted flesh-tone.

“Talk is cheap, d’Arc.” Sheena responded. “Better mages than you have failed. Do you want to end up like Kreig?”

“Not a chance.” d’Arc boasted, and vanished.

“Weevil.” Sheena huffed, returning to her book. “There’s nothing wrong with taking the time to plan your operation properly.”

* * *

The rig wasn’t quite as portable as the twins would have hoped. Dependent as it was on software and data storage space only the laptop could provide, recording became a two-person operation requiring almost as much setup as recording time. They were already brainstorming ideas for boosting battery life, but for now they were limited to less than half an hour of recording at a time.

Maggie panned the camera around the cafeteria. At first, nothing showed up except for the Chelseas and their offspring. A guy walked in surrounded by a boiling aura that looked like grape Kool-Aid vomit, and just before the battery alarm went off, they spotted a girl with a cloud around her head attached to that aura. She took a seat next to him, staring blankly at nothing as she allowed him to fondle her body.

“Hey, the Chelseas are leaving!” Valorie whispered.

“Do you have the spare battery?” Maggie asked. “Maybe we can follow them and find out who’s holding their leashes!” Valorie changed batteries quickly, and the twins got up and followed at a discrete distance. The Chelseas returned to their dorm room. Maggie opened the door quietly—the rooms in the dorms lacked locks, a relic from the “good old days” when people could be trusted. Along the floor was the students’ stop-gap solution: A floor covered with Red Bull cans that served as an alarm when they went to bed. The cans were still swept out of the way from the residents’ passage. The closet door closed. Even before Maggie opened it, the girls both knew that it would be empty. Eerily empty, in fact. No personal effects were revealed on the floor of the closet when the door was opened. The rest of the room reflected disuse as well. The beds were dusty, as if they hadn’t been slept in since the semester started. The computers still wore their

dust covers. “Weird. It’s like they just use this place to get to and from class.”

“Hold this.” Valorie said, and handed her sister the laptop. She reached into her pocket for their mother’s brooch, which held the largest chunk of amber either of them had seen without flaws or inclusions in the center, about two inches long and one wide, rounded and polished in an oval shape. She held this up to the closet door and mumbled a few words of Latin—one of the few benign spells the twins had run across in their independent research. This one replicated the last magic used in the area. With the amber amplifying Valorie’s talent, magic was easier. The door flared, and the girls opened it. Instead of a closet, they found a huge mansion on the other side. The twins crept in together and were instantly immobilized. It was a frightening experience, being held prisoner like that. They couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t use even the little magic they knew—they couldn’t even breathe, although they felt no physical symptoms of lack of

air. A young girl about their age dressed in a maid’s uniform found them. The girls could see that there was a cloud around her mind, different from the ones around the Chelseas. She also had a pinkish aura around herself, and a golden glow in her middle. The girl left, and several minutes later, returned with the Chelseas and more women. The camera and laptop were removed from Maggie’s grip, and the brooch was removed from Valorie’s, before they were carried into a strange room with arcane patterns on the floor and ceiling—mostly protective circles. They were arranged so they were staring into each other’s frozen eyes before the Arab woman put up strange, magical force fields around them and left them alone.

* * *

“A couple of certifiable geniuses, if I do say so myself.” Charlie said, panning the camera around. The laptop was plugged into a wall outlet to avoid draining the battery. The camera took its power from the laptop, reducing the number of plugs needed. He deleted the recording file he’d just made and set the camera down. He found the raw and cropped records of the Chelseas’ trip past the multimedia lab door, glimmers and glints around people with vague hints of magical abilities which were and would remain untapped, and the guy with the purple aura and his thrall. “Recognize those two?” he asked the Chelseas.

“Mudd Tucker.” Smith said. “The girl’s Leia something-stein. We’ve been avoiding him, for the most part. I had a close encounter once, but luckily I was already showing at the time. He doesn’t like pregnant girls. He’s got a couple of other zombies following him, too.”

“Any idea how long he’s been active?” Charlie asked.

“As long as we’ve noticed him.” Smithe responded. “It was his zombie-slaves that caught our attention in the first place.” He scratched between her feline ears absently, drawing a low purr from her throat.

“Nothing too remarkable about the brooch.” Sanna said. “It’s been used to focus the girls’ natural abilities. The girls are lucky to have an affinity for a relatively common stone like amber as their mage-focus.”

“What about the girls themselves?”

“Twins, precisely six days shy of their eighteenth birthday.” Annemarie said. “They’ve been sensitive to magic all their lives, but they have very few sources of information on it. Despite all that, they’re determined to prove the ancient stories of wizards aren’t just make-believe.”

“That could be trouble.” Charlie said. “Especially if the government decides it has the right to force mages to use their abilities for its purposes.”

“I could break the camera and put a lock in their minds so they can’t make another.” Sanna suggested. “It wouldn’t be the first time the Myrdhynns have prevented non-mages from learning of supernatural things.”

“No, Sanna.” Charlie said. “That doesn’t set right with me. No, we have to get them to understand the shit-storm public knowledge of mage abilities would cause, and agree to keep the secret of their own free will.”

“Alternatively, you could offer to teach them to control their powers in return for their silence.” Hannity suggested, joining the meeting. The Crystal of Atlantis hung around the ancient magician’s neck in a bag so that it wouldn’t snap its thong at an inconvenient moment. Millimeter by millimeter, the Crystal was still growing, and would continue to do so until it had regained its former dimensions.

“I still think it’s best if they understand our reasons.” Charlie said, rising. He prepared a late lunch for the twins, though they wouldn’t have gotten any hungrier while frozen than they had been when they’d trespassed.

“You’re sure the fact that they’re pretty has nothing to do with it?” Hannity asked.

“Pretty sure.” Charlie responded, smirking. “It’s not like there’s a shortage around here. Barring intervention from...” He paused as something occurred to him. “Sanna, be a dear and seal up Tashi Myrdhynn’s grimoire, would you please? We don’t want his ghost pulling the same trick he did with Annemarie.”

“Yes, Master.” Sanna said. Charlie assigned the girls to set up a salad bar in the work room, and went to the computer, using the copy of Download Helper he’d recently registered to nab videos from YouTube—specifically, videos showing how cruelly non-powered people used powered people when they found a way to control them. He cropped Terra’s flashbacks from Final Fantasy 6 in Windows Movie Maker and added them in with bits from the Genosha story-arc in the 90s’ X-Men cartoon, choice PsiCorps moments from Babylon 5 and clips of the misuse of Alter Users in s-CRY-ed.

* * *

Valorie and Maggie sank to the floor as soon as they could move, glad to be able to change position at last. Maggie scratched furiously at an itch she’d been about to scratch before the spell froze them.

Their “hosts” had set up tables with the makings of a salad around the room—activity the twins had been able to hear but not see, stuck looking in each other’s eyes for who-knew-how-long. Maggie got a little bit of everything that was offered, but Valorie eschewed plant matter except for the lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, sunflower kernels and whatever plant-based ingredients were in the thousand island dressing. She did her best to ensure that every kind of animal protein on offer was represented in her bowl.

“Lettuce con carne, ha-ha, nice!” remarked one of the young males in the room. He seemed to have no magical ability, although the other two young men had a great deal of it. One glowed with a golden light in the girls’ vision, with something else glowing on his back and a link to every other female in the room. The other young man had a comparatively calm aura of a rich, deep purple and features she kept catching herself staring at. The looks Maggie was giving her indicated she was also liking what she saw in that direction.

“Do you know who I am?” asked the golden-glowing young man. The twins shook their heads. “I’m Charlie Lobo. I believe it’s safe to presume you followed the Chelseas through their dorm closet to our home somehow, though they assure me they closed it behind them.”

“Repeat magic.” Maggie said.

“I thought as much.” said an old man who had seated himself in a chair. In addition to his magical aura, somewhere between the hunk and the host, he looked the part of a wizard, with a floor-length beard, long hair and flowing robes, and a use-smoothed wooden staff which he kept nearby. The Arabic woman gave the brooch to Maggie, who gave it back to Valorie.

“You don’t look Mexican.” Valorie said to Charlie, who laughed.

“I’m descended from Spaniards, not Mexicans.” he said. “Anyway, the other males in the room are Hannity,” he indicated the old man, “my roommate, Steve,” here he indicated the Muggle, “and Crown Prince Clement of Atlantis and one of the few survivors we know of.”

“Wow.” the twins said dreamily, completely star-struck. The Prince was not completely immune to flattery, and used activating the DVD player as an excuse to look away. The lights dimmed, and a series of clips began to play—apparently every scene in fiction Charlie could find of people with powers being abused by people without. Without the distraction presented by Clement, Valorie could see the theme. She was prepared to ignore it until it finished with the fictional stuff and moved on to nonfiction—the Holocaust, the Salem witch trials, the Spanish Inquisition, as well as more recent actions to drive home the point that there were still people in the world who saw “different” and “evil” as synonyms.

“Okay, okay, we get it.” Valorie said. Charlie turned off the player.

“But what are we going to do now?” Maggie asked. “We spent years working on this for our Ph.D. thesis!”

“I’m sure two brilliant young ladies like yourselves will think of something.” Clement said. The twins giggled, then covered their mouths in embarrassment.

“Yes,” added Hannity, “though not very well-versed in mage-craft yourselves, you’re both as sensitive as people who have been using it for centuries. It makes me wonder, hmmm...” He seemed to lose himself in thought. Charlie spoke before they could press him.

“In the short term, you can be of help in liberating certain young women—the ones bound to the guy with the nasty aura you caught on tape.”

“But first,” Clement said, indicating the bowls in their hands, “finish your salads.”

* * *

The twins’ solution, two days later, was a trap consisting of remote-controlled cars carrying emitters set to project energy at a wavelength just lightly off from his. In theory, it should have prevented him using his mage-gifts. In practice, it caused him excruciating pain and left him twitching in the center. The twins had turned off the emitters and coaxed him to his feet. The mere threat of turning them back on again got him to promise to behave, and he walked sedately between the cars and kept his mouth shut.

Sanna used a spell she knew to summon those who were bound to Mudd. Fully a dozen girls answered the summons, faces as blank as new whiteboards.

“This is tricky, Master.” Sanna said. “The spell isn’t mind-control, exactly. Their minds—and their souls—are tethered to their bodies but trapped outside.” Charlie tapped energy from the Crystal’s reserve and fed it to Sanna to keep her strength up during the working. Each liberation involved taking a good deal of blood from Mudd, so it was a good thing he didn’t have more than a dozen. By the time they finished the last one, he wasn’t in much of a condition to resist. The emitters were put in the ceiling of Amelie’s basement with foils to narrow the projection area, thus creating a specially-tuned force field just for him. Charlie left apple juice and a sandwich within reach and sealed the basement door.

“Chahyie!” an excited voice called as the group exited the basement.

“Akiko!” Charlie said, scooping the child up into his arms. The three-year-old was wearing a Goku costume, complete with a little pin-on stuffed tail. “I see you found the way here through your parents’ closet.”

“I hiding.” Akiko declared, finger-brushing her long, black hair out of her face.

“From whom?”

“Mama.” Akiko said. “Pyay hidey seek?”

“No, sweetie, Uncle Charlie’s tired.” Charlie said. So saying, he flopped into the new couch in the parlor, onto which the skylight shone, revealing the actual time of day, though the windows were still charmed to show Texas time. Akiko climbed all over him while chatting up a storm, replacing her L’s with Y’s without seeming to notice. He had Trouble bring some lemon drops.

“Yemon dwop!” Akiko chimed eagerly as the candies came into view. Charlie grabbed the one Trouble threw him and shook it in its plastic wrapper to get Akiko’s attention.

“Akiko, say ‘lemon.’” he said in his best child-encouraging voice.


“No, ‘Kiko. ‘Lemon.’ La-la-la-lemon.” With exaggerated movements of his tongue, he showed Akiko how to do an L-sound, though it took her a few tries to get it right. When she did finally get the word right, he unwrapped the candy and gave it to her. Her face scrunched briefly, but she was soon smiling and bouncing happily on his chest.

“I thought I’d find her in here.” Kumoko said, scooping her daughter off Charlie’s chest. “I hope she wasn’t a bother.”

“Not at all.” Charlie said. Akiko took the lemon drop out of her mouth.

“Bye-bye, Chahlie.” she said, then returned the candy to its place. Kumoko looked at her daughter a moment, then smiled at Charlie.

“Well, looks like Uncle Charlie hasn’t been slacking off.” Kumoko said.

“I taught her ‘L.’ ‘R’ is your job.” Charlie joked. Akiko waved farewell to everyone as her mother took her back home.

“There’s a charmer if I ever saw one.” Valorie remarked. The phone rang. Amelie answered. She brought the phone to Charlie.

“Hello?” he asked.

“Charlie, it’s your father.” said the voice on the other end. “My stupid brother’s put Dad in a home. We’re going to go get him.”

“ know we’re connected through the closet, right?” Charlie asked.

“Oh.” his father responded.

“Hold your horses, I’m coming too.” He clicked off and had Amelie grab Camber. This was as good an opportunity as any to introduce the baby to his great-grandfather.

* * *

Curtis Lobo was flattered. His second-born son had mustered his entire family to rescue him from this reeking hell-hole of antiseptic, body substances and nurses with too much perfume.

“Charlie, my bright boy!” he called as his middle grandson approached.

“Hiya, Grampa.” Charlie said, hugging him. The hug jostled the bandages that covered the top half of Curtis’ face. The Viet Cong had not been kind when they’d caught him spying on one of their camps. He had refused to tell them what he had seen, so they had decided to make sure he would never see anything again.

It hadn’t quite worked. Though his eyes were completely destroyed and the upper half of his face scarred heavily enough to make the Phantom of the Opera wince, he occasionally perceived things. Things like where members of his family were, or certain objects he’d collected. Occasionally, he wondered if it was a family legacy.

“Who’s that in the doorway there?” he asked.

“Oh, Grampa, this is my wife, Amelie, and our son, Camber.” Charlie said.

“Camber? Good name. Good name.” He felt Charlie positioning his hands, and so was not surprised when a warm bundle was gently lowered into them. With the ease of long habit, he moved the baby to the crook of his elbow, freeing his other hand to get a feel for the new baby. Soft skin, a firm grip, an energetic kick and what Curtis judged to be a cute face, with a light dusting of soft hairs. A spreading warmth told him that something else had bred true, as well.

“Whoops!” Amelie exclaimed.

“No worries, Amelie.” Curtis said. “Charlie’s father, aunts and uncles peed on me, he peed on me, his brothers and cousins peed on me. It’s just a family tradition.”

“Well, he had a little help.” Amelie said, sounding guilty. “I rushed changing his diaper because we were in a hurry.”

“I’m flattered. Really.” Curtis said. Amelie took the baby into the bathroom and made a change. Charlie changed Curtis’ shirt. “Ya know, Charlie, sometimes we don’t use all the gifts we’re given. Sometimes we don’t have the opportunities we need. And sometimes, we’re just too scared.”

“Everybody gets scared sometimes, Grampa.” Charlie said. “Remember when I used to be scared of needles?”

“All kids are scared of needles. Some don’t grow out of it. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” Curtis responded. “Before I went off to war, I ran across an old family story. The pages were moldy and rotted, but I could make out what was written down most of the way through. My great-granpappy shoved it in a heavy metal chest before my granpappy was even born, and it stayed there until I found it. Seems an ancestor of ours took in a pregnant widow during the Inquisition and hid her from Torquemada’s men and the Church’s knights. Marilyn, I think it said her name was. They fell in love, and she stayed even after the baby was born. He took her to England and married her there, and adopted the boy. All the English officials knew was that she was a widow and the baby was of her first husband. When they got back to Spain, he knocked her up again, and she gave him a real son. They raised the boys together as brothers in full instead of

half-brothers and the two got along great. Someone else showed up, a woman in black robes. She tried to take the boys, but Marilyn wouldn’t let him. They fought, and the story says they cut up the countryside somethin’ fierce. Neither one of them could beat the other. The woman in black tried to banish Marilyn to another dimension—I figured that was a euphemism for killing her underhandedly at the time—but Marilyn grabbed hold of her and they both vanished. The sons cried for a while, but then realized that they needed to learn what their mother knew if they were gonna defend themselves. They apparently found some skill, and their kids learned what their daddies knew, and they passed it on to their kids, and so on, for a while, but they started running into hunters with swords that blocked magic, so they stopped using it. But that wasn’t enough. Spies kept finding out about the practice and learning, so they stopped teaching it too. I guess

my great-granpappy decided enough was enough and tried to cut the whole thing off.”

“Maybe he figured his kids wouldn’t believe it.” Charlie ventured softly.

“I wouldn’t have, before I lost my eyes.” Curtis said. “Thing is, I know now that it’s true. I can see certain things. I can see family members, or at least tell where they are. There are certain objects I can see, and I’ve done my best to gather them up. I’m glad I never gave your uncle the key to where I had that stuff. There’s still time to change my will, if they’ll stop finding more paperwork for your father to fill out.”

“Amen to that, Dad.” Charlie’s father said, coming in for the first time. “Camber pee on his shirt, Charlie?”

“Yep.” Charlie responded.

“Finish changing him, and we’ll get out of here.”

“Just keep me from bouncing off the walls and I’ll speed things along.” Curtis said. “It’s not like it matters if there’s something covering my face, anyway.” Before too long, they were at Harold’s house. Charlie wanted to set him up in his old room, but Curtis insisted on the hide-a-bed in the living room. He knew how to find things from there. He leaned his cane against the side of the couch and heard a plastic package being opened. Charlie put Curtis’ fingers through the holes in five chocolate-striped shortbread cookies. “Just like I like ‘em.” Curtis said happily, and began to eat the cookies off of his fingers.

“Cookie!” a little girl’s voice chimed, and little feet toddled closer, bringing with it the smell of Vick’s Vapo Rub.

“Whoa! Hold on, Akiko, you need to get the Vick’s off your fingers first!” Charlie said. “No, don’t lick it! Nasty! Uh, Grampa, you gonna be all right here for a few minutes?” The sound of Akiko struggling in her uncle’s grip punctuated his words.

“I’m fine.” Curtis said, eating another cookie off his finger. “You take care of the little one.” The sounds of struggle receded. Another little one crawled across the floor, picked itself up, and toddled in his direction. This one smelled of Vick’s as well. “Hello, there.”

“Jounouchi!” Kumoko’s voice called, and the baby fussed as he was picked up. “Hello, sir. Do you remember me?”

“Kumoko...yes, I remember.” Curtis said. “I remember how jealous the younger boys were of your husband, too.”

“Yes. You missed last Thanksgiving, though, so you haven’t met Jounouchi. He has a cold today.”

“Right, don’t need to be spreading that.” Curtis said. The baby sneezed, then laughed. His mother made a disgusted noise, and took the baby away somewhere. Charlie and Akiko were laughing.

“Joey made a nose bubble!” Akiko giggled.

“Here’s your cookie, Akiko.”

“Cookie wring?” Akiko asked, her R-sound blending a little W in with it. He sent Akiko to find her mother.

“Charlie, I’ve been meaning to ask you...what’s that in your palm?”

“That’s a long story.” Charlie said.

“Speaking of long stories, I had a weird dream that you were fighting dinosaurs a few nights ago.” Curtis said. Charlie laughed.

“My time-travel adventures haven’t gone quite that far, Grampa.” he said. Then he told him about his trip to Atlantis. After that, he explained how he had come to have a harem of women who would do whatever he wanted.

“That’s quite a story, Charlie. Do your parents know?”

“They know I live in a mansion in Spain with a lot of women, and that I’m learning magic, and that some of my friends are not from this century. They may suspect that Amelie’s not my only bedmate, but they haven’t said anything about it. I’m pretty sure they know the demons that came after me before weren’t there by accident. There’s a gate in my parents’ closet that leads to one of the guest rooms in the Spanish manor. There’s another one in the hall closet between my old room and Thomas’ room, which leads to Junior’s house. If there’s trouble, I have a couple of friends living in Junior’s pool house that glow as brightly as I do, festive Christmassy red and green.”

“It’s good you’re learning to use your gifts, Charlie. I never had the chance.” He stretched and yawned. Charlie eased him into position and he went to sleep.

* * *

Jean-Paul d’Arc gazed into his cauldron, looking down on his target. The object of his attentions was and was not Amelie. She was still Amelie O’Fae, power-craving dark sorceress, and was living the life she had enjoyed before being enslaved by Charlie. Harsh syllables that made Klingonese swearing sound like elf-song poured out of his mouth as the power built up in his work-room. A dark cloud appeared in the center of a circle, and another one wrapped around Amelie’s body. With an exclamation of surprise and anger, the Amelie of the past was transported to the present.

“All right, whoever you are, say your prayers, because your life is only going to last as long as it takes me to decide what spell to kill you with!” she snarled, gathering power to herself.

“That’s no way to thank someone who just wants to help you.” Jean-Paul said.

“Tch.” she scoffed. “You expect me to fall for that?”

“You don’t trust me?” Jean-Paul asked.

“Trust is not a survival trait. No one’s ever going to take advantage of ME!”

“Ah, but we’re four hundred years in your future, Ms. O’Fae, and someone is taking advantage of you.” Jean-Paul said. The image in his cauldron altered, showing the inside of her parlor filled with strangers. It also showed present-day Amelie nursing a baby. “You’ve borne him one son, and thanks to his bewitchments in your mind, you’re already thinking of bearing him another.” She watched, her face twisting in rage as she watched herself nuzzling affectionately at Charlie’s knee while she sat in a most undignified position on the floor at his feet. “We have the same enemy, Amelie. What will you do with this knowledge of what the present holds for you?”

“That’s none of your damn business.” she growled, lightning crackling from her fingertips. Jean-Paul deflected her attacks easily, but did not fight back. She glared at him, then stalked out of his work room to make her own plans.

“Totally incapable of cooperation.” Jean-Paul said. “Maybe I should have killed her...nah, what fun would that be?” He closed his spell book and took it outside. In this tome, Jean-Paul d’Arc had assembled hundreds of enchantments to master time itself. One day, he promised himself, he would supplant the Time Lord and remake history in his own image. He ran through a spell to master the minds of beasts, making sure he had it correctly memorized, and opened his time-tome again.

* * *

Amelie had been feeling uneasy all morning. For some reason, she felt thinned-out, like a gallon of Kool-Aid made with only one packet. She thought at first it was worry for Chelsea Smith and Hilda, who had gone into labor the night before so close together that it was almost as if Chelsea had set Hilda off. Queen Gwendolyn had gone with Hilda to a local hospital on the Spanish side, while Chelsea Smithe had gone with her roommate to the American side. No, that wasn’t it. They were in good hands. It was is if half her life-force was somewhere else.

Something rattled the windows. Roused from their activities, the household emerged, wondering what it was. Amelie refused to give in to the temptation to watch the cup of coffee on the bar. The vibrations stopped. Charlie whispered with Sanna for a few moments, then Amelie gasped as her wards shattered.

“Shiko, I want you, Sanna and Clement with me.” he said. “Hato, the box and pendant I showed you before. You remember your instructions. The rest of you, get the children and get into the work room.”

“Yes, Master.” Amelie said automatically, feeling herself becoming wet as she obeyed, though she was uncertain of what was going on. She picked up her baby in the nursery, watching as others grabbed the kittens. Soon enough, they were in the work room. Amelie handed Camber to Ina so she could seal the door, when suddenly her uneasy feeling took on greater definition. It was in the parlor, and the house wards weren’t active. Because the intruder isn’t an intruder, the thought came unbidden to her mind. She bit her lip worriedly. “Guard Camber with your life, Ina. I have to do this.” she said. If she reasoned that she had already obeyed by entering the work room, she could spare herself a lot of mental agony. After all, Master hadn’t told her to stay there. She sealed the door from the outside and ran down the stairs.

Amelie, Slave of Charlie and Amelie O’Fae faced each other across the expanse of the parlor, the former in comfortable jeans and a T-shirt, the other in severe, unrelieved black leather and a black cloak lined with red that matched her hair.

“How did you come to and now?” she asked her former self.

“Why should I waste my breath explaining to you, who are going to be dead very soon anyway?”

“Funny, I don’t remember ever having been suicidal.”

“I will never be you!” the other snarled. “You’re weak, soft, docile and domesticated. A contented cow happily nursing your master’s calf.”

“Then why haven’t I disappeared?” Amelie asked. She forced a smile onto her face. “If you think about it, the fact that we’re standing here ready to fight each other already tells you how this is going to end.” Her younger self took an involuntary step back, then forced herself back to her former position.

“You won’t break me that easily.”

“Oh? How many years’ experience do I have on you?” Amelie asked. She stepped closer to the other. A flash of memory bubbled to the surface of her mind. “Four hundred. That’s how much.” The other’s eyes widened at the correct guess. “Face it, sugar, history isn’t changing. Whatever you do to me, you will have to suffer in the future.”

“I’d rather die than be a slave!” the other Amelie snarled, then began chanting a spell. The present’s Amelie dispelled the magic before it could do her any harm. Suddenly, the windows were rattled by a frightening noise.

* * *

Charlie led his group toward a man in the garb of the Fell Order M’rdread, who was leaning against a gatepost as if he owned it.

“That’s far enough.” the man said, throwing a fireball at Charlie’s feet. Sanna put out the flames before Charlie could even singe his clothes. Charlie took a swing at the Fell mage’s jaw, but his foe scooted back to the other side of the road, leaving a trail of blue-black afterimages.

“It’s a real pity we’re going to be making another mess so soon after the last one got cleared up.” Charlie said as the afterimages faded.

“Well, such things can’t be helped.” the Fell said tauntingly. “Go ahead, swing that famous Sword, Sir Prince. I’d really like to see it in action.”

“Do you think he’s dumb enough to fall for that?” Charlie asked. “You’ve obviously got a spell ready to send the Sword’s power back at him the moment he does.” He nodded to Shiko, who adjusted a small pendant around her neck and charged with her swords out. The Fell mage tried a spell, but it bounced off her as it would have if Charlie had taken it. He managed to get away and cast several images of himself, but Shiko wasn’t fooled. Her ninja training enabled her to discern which mage was real, and she pursued him relentlessly until she reached the edge of a grove of trees. Something knocked several of them over, and a sound split the air, such as what would be made by a forty-ton bird of prey. Shiko managed to avoid the falling plantlife, and abandoned her chase when she saw what it had hidden.

“So much for the Hollywood version.” Sanna muttered as the Tyrannosaurus rex stomped into view. Its outline was broken up by its stripe-pattern, but it wasn’t using stealth or ambush tactics, and there were places where feathers still sprouted, though they were mostly absent from it now, having molted them away once it got too big to need their insulation. Shiko tried to distract it, but it made a beeline for Charlie. Its eyes glowed with the power of the compulsion in its mind. Charlie cast a spell of transportation, taking himself away from the group and to the edge of the creature’s sight range. Maybe with enough such short hops, he could keep it busy until he found a way to...

The sound of charging feet made Charlie teleport again. Sporting parrot-like colors, a triceratops and styrakosaurus joined the chase. Charlie jumped onto the back of an ankylosaur, barely avoiding the spikes of a stegosaurus. Further away, he found a diplodocus awaiting him with its neck arched and tail swinging, ready to inflict mayhem with that awesome appendage. In case he thought of escaping by air, a quetzalcoatlus soared the skies, ready to pick him off like a fish from the ocean’s surface.

“Oh, come on!” Charlie groaned as an allosaurus, a pack of velociraptors, a pack of deionychus, a pachycephalosaurus and a spinosaurus joined in as well. If the house were near enough to the river, I suppose this guy would have called up ichthyosaurs, mosasaurs and plesiosaurs, too! Charlie thought to himself. Needing a breather, Charlie put up a magical barrier. While the beasts pounded on the outer one, he constructed an inner one with more care.

“You don’t think I’m going to give you a rest, do you?” the Fell sorcerer asked. Once the dinosaurs had broken through the outer barrier, the sorcerer lashed a ward-breaking spell at the inner one. Charlie had thought of that, however, and designed this spell to absorb any magic directed at it and incorporate it into itself—thus, the mage’s attacks only strengthened his defense. “Okay, so maybe you’re smart enough that a battering attack won’t work.” the mage said, appearing in a nearby tree. He began to chant nasty syllables, and a black mist began to rise. Charlie’s shield flickered and died. “How’s that? I created a zone where magical defenses simply can’t work.”

“Fine.” Charlie said, lashing out at the mage with lightning.

“Jean-Paul d’Arc, you are an idiot.” the mage grumbled.

“I concur!” Charlie growled, bloodying d’Arc’s nose with a flying kick to the face. His foe teleported away as the dinosaurs moved in again. Charlie, unable to find where d’Arc had gone, teleported to the shoulder blades of the diplodocus. It emitted an ear-splitting trumpet, then lowered itself to its knees in preparation for rolling over. Charlie had other ideas, using what he had learned from Amelie to change control over the beast’s mind to himself. The glow of its eyes changed from bruise blue-black to gold, and it rose to its feet again. Its tail lashed at his direction, knocking predators away. He could see the spinosaurus preparing to take a bite out of the diplodocus’ shoulders, with Charlie on them.

* * *

Sheena wondered how she got herself into these situations. She had pursued Charlie’s parents, brother and some old, blind man through a gate leading to his brother’s house. It should have been an easy kill. Instead, now she was fighting two-on-one against a pair of Myrdhynns. The family had been ready for her, or already fleeing. Somehow, d’Arc must have tipped them off—or else Charlie had sent someone to warn them.

A powerful magical item moved within her sensing. She caught a hint of movement to her left and fled in that direction. It was one of Charlie’s ninjas, dashing from shadow to shadow with a box under her arm. Sheena could sense it was powerful. Just how powerful? Maybe enough to turn the tide of battle against these Myrdhynn dogs? She transported herself into the ninja’s path, and realized that that was a mistake as she barely managed to avoid getting cut in two by the ninja’s blade. She tried a stop-spell, but she was apparently wearing a copy of her Master’s tattoo, or a pendant with the same design. At this range, Sheena could tell that whatever it was could only be used by a female. So, maybe she was trying to find someone to use it to Charlie’s advantage.

We’ll just see about that.

* * *

The troodons and other fleet-footed beasts were taking their toll on Charlie’s friends. Clement was bleeding from several procompsognathus bites while two packs of feathered velociraptors kept the ninja busy. D’Arc had Iset wrapped in darkness, laying siege to her mind, but her light kept it at bay. If he had infinite time, he could break her, but he didn’t.

“Oh, Darkey.” Charlie’s voice called. D’Arc whirled, and found Charlie sitting calmly on the head of the larger of two tyrannosaurs. “Time’s not on your side anymore.”

“We’ll just see about that!” Jean-Paul exclaimed. He drew his book. “Would you like to find out how the dinosaurs died?” He opened the tome, but a few words from Charlie, and it flew out of his hands. The Myrdhynn broke free and transferred control of the remaining dinosaurs to herself.

“Well, now that that’s taken care of...Grimlock, it’s snack time!”

“Leaving!” Jean-Paul squeaked, but for some reason, his spell of transportation failed.

“I created a zone where teleportation simply can’t work.” Charlie said, baring his teeth in a smile that lacked even the semblance of friendliness. Jean-Paul screamed, and the last thing he saw were the jaws of Charlie’s mount bearing down on him.

* * *

Amelie smiled with relief as she saw Master walk in the door under his own power. He gawked at the mess that had once been a nice-looking parlor. The wreckage of furniture and antiques was everywhere, and only the warded bookshelf remained unmarked. In the center of the parlor was a blackened area where most of the fighting had taken place. Her younger self lay unconscious and injured, but alive. The modern Amelie knelt, exhausted, at the other’s side.

“We have to get her back to her own time, Master.” she said tiredly. The room tilted, and she was on her side. Blackness intruded on the edges of her consciousness.

“He summoned your past self to fight you?”

“I don’t know why he summoned her, but she fought me. I’m sorry, Master. We made a mess.”

“You did good, honey. Rest now.”

“Yes, Mas...”

* * *

Charlie needed some fresh air. Sanna was studying Jean-Paul d’Arc’s grimoire—a veritable Tome of Time to make the Past Master cream in his pants. His parents and grandfather were at his brother’s house, and reported that a witch had shown up, fought with the Myrdhynns, then given up and gone chasing after a ninja with a box.

Charlie hoped Hato was all right. Almost like magic, the ninja appeared, singed and bleeding, but alive. She sank to her knees, panting. He picked her up and carried her home. Ina and Scheris cleaned her wounds, then put her into a deep, healing sleep.

“You did good, kid.” he said softly.

It was two days later that the attack came in force. He was out cleaning magical residue from d’Arc’s attack when a white lady all in black appeared.

“If you want something done right, do it yourself.” she said.

“Hello, pretty.” Charlie said, trying to appear stronger than he felt. “I don’t suppose you’re the one who took the package from my ninja, are you?”

“Package? What are you talking about? And where are my underlings?”

“I dunno.” Charlie said truthfully. “I fed one to his own dinosaur, left the other one to feed scavengers forever...”

“Fool!” she snarled. “I mean Sheena and Venna!”


“Us.” a female voice said. A blonde bombshell and a black beauty appeared, both wearing the same robes as the porcelain doll. “Mistress Albina, Sheena took this from his ninja. Apparently, Charlie here made it himself. It has the feel of his magic all over it.”

“And what does it do, Venna?”

“The instant I put it on, I could feel it beginning to amplify the power within me.”

“But not enough that you could oppose me, is that it?” Albina asked, taking the golden robe from the box. She let her own robe fall away. “I’ll discover the truth of the matter myself.” With that, she put the robe on. “Mmm, delicious. It feels sooooooooo goooooooood...wait! What’! It’s a trap!”

“’Fraid so.” Charlie responded. The two ex-Fell sorceresses crawled to him on all fours and kissed his feet.

“Master, have we served you well?” Venna asked.

“I knew that one minor member of M’rdread would not satisfy you, so I gave the robe to my superior, and together we decided that our former Mistress must be yours as well.” Sheena said.

“You’ve both done very well.” Charlie said, patting them on the heads. Albina tried to take the robe off, but it tightened around her, and the hood came up and covered her head. She fell, and was completely enveloped.

“She is strong, Master.” Venna said.

“That’s okay. The robe will turn her very strength against her.” Charlie said. Albina writhed as the robe assaulted her mind with pleasure to weaken her resistance to the remaking of her personality. Charlie settled down to watch, and had the ex-Fell pleasure each other for his entertainment. Albina’s back arched, and she soaked the front of the robe below the waist with female ejaculate. Three times more she came, each time harder than the last, if that were possible. Finally, she lay still. The robe loosened several minutes later. Charlie picked up his newest prize and carried her to her new home. He thought he saw a male in the Fell garb out of the corner of his eye, but he was gone before Charlie got a good look.

* * *

“Very clever.” Ali Myrdhynn said as he very carefully examined the spells that had been woven into the robe. “He progresses well for someone who started so late in life. I don’t think I would have thought to try something like this.” He smirked at Sanna, who held the leashes of the three blindfolded ex-members of the Fell Order M’rdread in one hand. The collars robbed them of conscious thought, making them docile and obedient. “Tell Charlie he may do with them as he pleases, and...keep the robe. It’s keyed to him anyway.”

“Yes, Ali Myrdhynn.” Sanna said, bowing. She took the robe from his hand.

“What was done with the creatures the other Fell brought forward in time?”

“The dinosaurs are concealed in a field of invisibility until I can seal them in a Deck of Summoning.” Sanna said.

“And what of Amelie’s younger self?”

* * *

Four hundred years in the past, Amelie O’Fae awoke in the parlor of her mansion. She hurt as if she’d fought a desperate duel against a superior foe, but she didn’t remember getting any of the injuries.

Someone wiped my memory? she thought to herself. Damn it! What have I forgotten?! Who did I fight? How dare someone take advantage of me!! What did it take to be safe from rivals? Of course, it took power—she had to become the most powerful sorceress on Earth.

She thought of Tashi Myrdhynn, killed by one of the Church’s knights. Yes, now she remembered. He’d thrown his spell book in the water rather than let them have it. If she knew mages, it would have some sort of protection on it. Maybe she could find it. The power of a Myrdhynn could be hers! Yes, that was it. Power. Her fingers tingled at the thought of running her fingers over that grimoire’s cover. She would have Tashi Myrdhynn’s spell-book. Then, no one would ever take advantage of her again.

To be continued...