The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

On a Sunday afternoon in September

Pete’s HiWay Diner and Truck Stop

Jimmy Bailey was halfway through eating his hamburger when he saw the black SUV pull into the parking lot. The shiny black vehicle, with a “Tim Hanson Ford” paper rectangle where the license plate should be, soon parked. Two men climbed out of the SUV.

One man was tall and halfway bald; he wore black slacks, a white long-sleeved dress shirt, and a blue tie.

The SUV’s passenger was short for a grown man, and had red hair and a trimmed red beard and moustache—but oddly, his chin was clean-shaven. His t-shirt, overalls, and casual shoes all were green.

Once the two men entered the diner, a waitress led them to a booth. The tall man slid into that booth; the red-haired man looked around, then pointed to the Restrooms sign.

Right by Jimmy’s own booth was where the collision occurred: A smelly man who was wearing a black t-shirt came striding out of the Men’s Room, and he knocked down the red-haired man.

The smelly man said, “Hey, pipsqueak, watch where yer going.”

The red-haired man—whose hands, butt, and feet now were all on the floor—said, “I must watch where I go? Nay, you big ox, you hairless monkey, ’tis you who needs to watch where you walk. What if I be a child?”

The smelly man’s laugh was cruel. “But you’re not a child, runt. So you don’t deserve shit.”

The smelly man stepped over the fallen man and walked back to his booth. The red-haired man stood up, while muttering in a foreign language, and resumed his trek to the Men’s Room.

He was not in the restroom long. By the time that Jimmy had finished eating and had stood up to pay his bill, the little man had rejoined the SUV driver in their booth.

When Jimmy slid out of his booth, shiny things caught his eye. He looked down to the floor.

Where the red-haired man had been unwillingly sitting, four gold coins lay.

Seconds later, Jimmy was at the short man’s booth. “Pardon me, but you dropped these,” Jimmy said, holding out the coins.

The red-haired man looked surprised, then his hands flew down to slap the pockets of his overalls. Jimmy heard many clink sounds.

Jimmy wondered, How many gold coins is he carrying in those pockets? Has he never heard of a safe-deposit box?

The man with the polka-dot tie said, “Brogus, James Samuel Bailey here did you a big favor, hm?”

The smaller man smiled at Jimmy. “Aye, you are an honest lad. Honest lads need rewarding, I be thinking.”

Hearing that, Jimmy was torn. Jimmy’s student loans were already enough to start crushing him on the day he would graduate from college. After those student loans paid for tuition, books, and his dormitory, Jimmy’s only college-student luxuries were a fast internet connection, visiting his family once a month, and dates with Debbie. In short, if a stranger wanted to give money to Jimmy, Jimmy definitely could make use of that money.

On the other hand, Jimmy had not decided to return the gold coins to finagle a reward, but because the gold clearly belonged to the red-haired stranger.

Jimmy’s conscience won the struggle. After only a second’s pause, Jimmy said, “I didn’t do this to—gosh golly, I can’t take any of your gold!”

“’Tis good, for I shan’t be offering it. Me gold is precious to me,” red-haired Brogus said. “But tell me, lad, man to man: Be there a fair young lass in your life?”

“Yeah, sort of. But, well, it’s complicated.”

The other man, whose blue tie had white polka-dots on it, said, “James Samuel Bailey, trust us and answer our questions. Our first question is, What is ‘complicated’ about having a girlfriend or wife?”

Jimmy could not explain why, but suddenly it felt right and natural to answer the questions of these two men, and to not hold back.

Jimmy said, “I don’t have a ‘wife,’ lucky me! But as for Debbie, she’s my girlfriend, and she’s really controlling, which bothers me a lot, and I’d like to get a better girlfriend, but I don’t think I can.”

The man with the tie asked, “How is she controlling?”

Jimmy said, “Where do I start? For one thing, I went home to see my family this weekend. That’s good, right, spending all that time with my family? No. Debbie told me Friday that she ‘expects’ me to call her at least once a day. And not when I was sleepy, either, but when I was awake. So I was supposed to break off a conversation with my mom and dad, or my brothers, to step out on the porch and call Debbie? That’s nuts. So I didn’t call Debbie but one time this weekend, though I texted her a few times. Which means she’ll read me the Riot Act tomorrow, but do you know what?”

Jimmy leaned forward and murmured, “I don’t think I did wrong.”

The man with the tie asked another question: “Why don’t you think you can do better than Debbie?”

Jimmy replied, “Because I’m not handsome, rich, or charming. The girls I really want as a girlfriend, those are the guys those girls go for.”

The two men exchanged a look that Jimmy could not read. Then red-haired Brogus asked, “What manner of lady love would you have, if you could?”

Had anyone else asked that question, Jimmy would have replied with the politically correct A woman who knows what she wants from life, and who will let me help her achieve her goals. Jimmy, being kind-hearted and helpful, would have actually meant those words (mostly).

But instead, Jimmy answered the question with scratch-where-it-itches honesty: “What kind of women would I really like to date? Girls with hot figures, and hot hair, and makeup, and clothes. By hot, I mean super-hot—they look like strippers and porn actresses. Girls who will do anything and everything with their boyfriends—anytime, anywhere, doesn’t matter if someone is watching. But while they’re totally faithful to their man, they don’t get upset if their boyfriend has another girl on the side. In fact, they’ll have a threesome with that other girl, if that’s what their boyfriend wants.”

Polka-Dot-Tie Man and the red-haired man exchanged another look.

Red-haired Brogus then looked at Jimmy. “Like I said, I shan’t reward you with gold. But this I can do—”

Brogus reached around to the left-breast pocket of his green coveralls, and pulled out a wooden ring.

“—put the ring on. Do it, lad. You might find this ring be worth more than gold coins.”

Brogus was grinning at Jimmy. Jimmy would swear under oath in a courtroom that the short man’s grin looked mischievous. Jimmy felt wary of accepting the ring.

Even so, Jimmy had been taught that it was rude to refuse a gift, so now he put on the ring. But he did not agree with the man about how valuable the ring was—

The ring was wooden, not metal, and had no inlaid stones in it. Long ago, the wood had been varnished, but part of the varnish had worn away. The only thing to give the ring value? The ring had strange little designs carved on it.

But the designs were carved on the inside, where nobody would see them whenever Jimmy wore the ring.

“Thank you for this,” Jimmy said with fake enthusiasm.

The man with the tie said, “The ring maybe doesn’t look like much. But if Brogus gave you this, it’s much more than you think.”

Jimmy shrugged, then nodded goodbye to the two men. Three minutes later, Jimmy was back on the highway and headed back to college—

With the wooden ring still on his right hand.

Jimmy was ten minutes away from the truck stop when something odd happened: Both of his hands started to feel tingly at the same time; then both hands stopped tingling at the same time.