The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

This is a story I came up with for Mind Zapper/Missing’s November writing contest on the MC Forum and The Garden, but never had time to finish. But, inspired by Jukebox’s very recent Every Rose Has Its Thorn, I decided I wanted to finish it for posting here. No great social meaning to this one, obviously, as it’s basically just another sexual fantasy of mine. With a nod to sara castle for the heroine’s nickname, and some noodges to get it done, I give you....

Button Pusher

Chapter One: Gotcha!

Paragon shot through the early night skies of the city, reveling in the cool air, not even remotely concerned about the criminals she’d soon have to face. Using her own, personal state-of-the-art computer, she’d determined that tonight was the night; tonight was the night that the Addiction and her crew would strike again, either at one of the city’s major banks, or in an attempt on the new Mesopotamian exhibit at the museum.

She’d set up shop on the roof of the Mercer Building, about equidistant from any of their potential targets, and thus she was ready and on the move the second one of the silent alarms she’d placed at each location went off... in this case, at the museum. She figured Addiction could beat the museum alarms, but wouldn’t be ready for one of her “specials”, and now it looked as if she’d been correct.

This was going to be a piece of cake, she thought, rocketing toward another date with destiny for her, Emerald City’s number one crime-fighter. She was glad it would just be her and them, with no police to get in the way, as that’s how she liked it... make the capture, have a little fun, then call in the local constabulary for the clean-up and booking.

Outside of some call-ups from the Society of Global Protectors, where her powers had been somewhat challenged by alien invaders and earth-bound supervillains, along with the occasional supervillainess... her favorite... Paragon’s civic feeling and desire to protect her home city had never led to much in the way of challenges. No... basically it was just a few fun bits of mayhem at the hands, and smack in the faces of, the local rabble of criminals and power-grabbers.

The Addiction was a newcomer on the block, though, who’d been having just enough big-time success to draw Paragon’s attention.

But tonight, her criminal career would end.

Intelligence, the power of flight, super-strength, and nearly physical invulnerability made her about 100 times more than a match for any non-super human, and there was nothing in Addiction’s history, or any of those of her gang of cutthroats and muscle-for-hire, that gave Paragon the slightest bit of worry. This Addiction seemed very smart, but with unknown other abilities, and little clue about the meaning of her nickname, outside the obvious. Her all-female gang had a few martial art skills, it seemed, but that was about it for them.

Oh sure, she knew the drill... never assume anything about an opponent, especially an unknown one... and she was following that. But still, she couldn’t help thinking she’d already outsmarted this particular bunch, and was well-prepared, way ahead of their criminal curve, and ready to nab them in the act.

She landed on the roof of the stately old building, and, respecting that, didn’t just bust through the skylight, even though her super-hearing already assured her they were inside, and just below her in the museum proper. Paragon knew she had a certain level of vanity that just blasting through it to land among them in a shower of flying glass would satisfy; but as her secret identity of Alicia Summers, she was a taxpayer, too, and the bill for such a dramatic, and damaging, entrance would soon end up on her door, and the doors of everyone else in the city.

So, instead, she simply crushed the lock in her hand, lifted the big, glass window, and floated down into the exhibition room below.

As fate would have it, the woman she believed to be Addiction was the first to spot her intrusion, and cried out, “Get her, girls!” Her “girls”, being the obedient, very fit, and nearly oblivious sorts they were, obeyed, each of them rushing at Paragon in turn.

The first... a beautiful, very tall, Latino woman, her eyes shining with anticipation... threw a punch into her jaw that would have dropped most saplings. Paragon only smiled before backhanding the startled woman literally into the next room, her aim perfect as the other spun and tumbled into the Etruscan exhibit there.

A second, her physique squatter, though still rather attractive, cried out, “Bitch!” as her fist flew through the air to land on Paragon’s solar plexus.

Paragon laughed, letting her assailant shake out her probable broken hand before saying softly, “Is that all you’ve got?” As the injured criminal stared at her, Paragon reached out, grabbed her, and threw her upward into the museum’s rafters, exulting in her own power, and in how easily the forces of deceit and badness succumbed to her superior strength and resolution of purpose.

It was only a testament to her “goodness” that she caught the screaming woman before she could crash onto the floor, then casually flung her into the wall on her left, watching her “drift” into the nap she probably needed, anyway.

Seven pretty and determined thugs, and seven bodies sprawled in semi-conscious pieces on the floor, later, Paragon was left to finally confront the feminine “mastermind” of this disastrous attempt to rob Emerald City’s oldest museum.

“Ready to go to jail, sweets?” Paragon asked, tossing her cape back over her shoulder and letting a wry grin paint her face below her green half-mask.

“Not tonight, Paragon,” Addiction replied, looking Paragon over with an appreciative smile of her own. “Lord, I never expected you to be such a hottie. Your pictures don’t do you justice at all. Musclely, sure, but beautifully so... great blonde hair and big soft tits practically oozing out of the cut-off in the center of your costume... great hips, tight little shorts over a great ass. Mmmm... is that a camel toe I see?”

Fuck, Paragon thought, knowing she was blushing from the other’s “side-of-beef” appraisal, even as the “obvious” reason for her opponent’s nickname became more apparent....

Addiction was gorgeous... as hot as any of the superheroines she’d ever been sexual with, with glossy, long brunette hair, lips to die for, big tits in an indecently thin white tube top, and great legs sliding out from an equally indecent short black leather skirt. She stood there, turning a bit from side-to-side, her hands behind her back as she apparently, and almost ludicrously, tried to look demure.

Recovering, Paragon called out, “That’s fine. Take a good look, and give yourself something to remember while you do your time, thief.”

“I’m not, you know,” Addiction told her.

“What? A thief? You’re just here after closing to view the exhibit in private?” Paragon asked, practically snorting in derision.

“No, no, Paragon. I plan to steal everything we can carry once you’re taken care of. No, I meant I’m not wearing any panties under my skirt, as I knew you must be wondering about that, given the way you were staring down there.”

Non-plussed, not liking where this conversation was heading at all, the superheroine realized that’s exactly what she’d been thinking after she’d checked Addiction out. She also realized the other was just stalling, and had no real hope of defeating her, so was just trying to get her goat for some reason.

“Hardly surprising for someone who dresses like such a slut, Addiction,” Paragon finally replied, smiling again as she heard the rustle of some of her previous victims trying to get back into the fray. She didn’t care, as that would just be a bit more fun for her.

There was no way they could beat her.

“You should talk, baby,” Addiction purred at her. “Superman has that big “S” on his chest, but there’s not enough material on your outfit for that, there. No, you should wear your “S”, for Superslut, right on the front of your tights... right above your needy pussy. I know you’re already starting to get wet, just from looking at me.”

“You’re crazy!”

“No, I’m not... all bi or lesbian women get aroused when they look at me for long enough. There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed by your deep attraction to me.”

“I’m not attracted to you, thief!” Paragon told her, knowing that was a lie, as she could easily see the truth in what Addiction had just said. The burglar’s body seemed to exude sex, and sexual desire, and it was becoming difficult for the superheroine to ignore that.

Addiction just sighed. “Whatever you say, Paragon. GRAB HER ARMS, GIRLS!”

The superheroine took a quick glance to each side, to see her Latino and “squatter” friend approaching. Laughing at their foolishness, she actually stuck both arms out and let the other two grab them in both hands. Turning back to Addiction, she was still smiling, and saying, “You’re like, joking, righ....”

But the villainess wasn’t just standing there anymore. She’d produced something from behind her back, some bundle of what looked like cloth, and had thrown it at her face. Before Paragon could even finish her gloating sentence, it hit her in the head, beginning to wrap tightly around it, almost as if it were alive, almost as if it had a mind of its own.

She gasped, feeling it twining around her, completely covering her face, muffling and blinding her, cutting off much of her air. As she struggled to breathe in, she smelled something sweet and chemically, along with something more organic, and more... sexual. Both dizzied her, though in different ways. The chemical smell was obviously some sort of anesthetic, as she found herself quickly becoming muzzy-headed and confused. Her body wasn’t responding properly, either, growing more sluggish every moment.

She had enough control to bring her arms together hard in front of her, hoping to crash her two attackers together like cymbals. Seemingly expecting that, though, they’d simply let go of her wrists, and all Paragon succeeded in doing was slamming her fists together.

Unable to see, she swung at them wildly before trying to reach up to tear at the cloth, or synthetic, or whatever the material was that encased and squeezed her entire head. As she did that, however, she felt things sliding up and over her hands and arms, and snapping tight just above her elbows. They were slick and clingy like latex, and covered her fingers like slippery mittens, allowing her no purchase at all on her cloying “hood”.

Paragon brushed off the kicks and punches of Addiction’s yelling thugs like a bear among gnats, but they were distracting, and she was finding it harder and harder to concentrate. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen, and what she was getting was laced with that draining soporific and the distracting eroticism of that other, definitively feminine scent. Her increasingly clumsy fingers were almost useless, feeling like the were wrapped in Teflon as they simply slid over the tight material blinding and gagging her.

She couldn’t even get enough grip on the “gloves”, themselves, to pull them off her arms.

Stumbling forward, she tried to escape, or at least buy herself some time, unsure what else to do. She would have flown up to the rafters, but unlike some “supers”, who directly controlled gravity in order to fly, she was one of those who flew perceptually. Supers like her somehow just recognized what “up”, or “forward” were in relationship to their surroundings, and took to the air. Even in the dark of night, she could make out clouds, stars, or city lights and thus lift herself off the ground.

But she had to be able to see to do that, and right now, her world was completely dark, and everything was closing in on her. As someone stuck out an unseen foot and tripped her to the floor, it was all she could do to get her hands down to prevent herself from falling flat on her covered face.

Weakly struggling to get up again, she realized she was passing out, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She couldn’t even think of a way to try to stop it. Her strength was waning quickly, and when two women took her arms and held them out to her sides, and another sat on her back, she couldn’t prevent that, nor break free from them in any way.

More seconds passed as she lay there on her belly, moaning and lost. She could barely hear anymore, either, every word and sound muffled even further by the cloth over her ears. Just before internal blackness claimed her, however, she did manage to hear what Addiction was saying right next to her....

“Nighty-night, Paragon. Enjoy yourself when you wake up!”