The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Mmmmm. Did we sleep at all last night?” asked Zofia, kissing then whispering into his ear as she squished into Ed from behind. “Where is everyone?”

Her lovely and lush breasts seemed to deliberately hit Ed’s “Forget Homework” button as they pressed against his back, and the nibbling on his ear prevented him from remembering. Spinning his chair around, to better appreciate his accidental girlfriend, Ed’s legs caught Zofia’s, her knees folded, and she dropped gently into his lap as though she’d done it a hundred times. She turned, her arms settled on his shoulders and they stared into each other’s eyes for a short while.

“I dreamed them all home,” he said after a not particularly chaste kiss ended the mutual gazing. “Want some cereal?”

“Are you offering anything else?” she asked, dripping innuendo and wriggling in his lap like an impatient little girl.

“Uh, actually I don’t know what’s in the fridge.”

“Are there any eggs?” Zofia sighed, rolling her eyes.

Ed shrugged cluelessly, so she sighed again and lifted up off of him.

Her leggy body strode like a diva all the way into the enormous kitchen and Ed followed like a robot. He had to; the shirt she had on left the majority of the lower half of her exquisitely shaped form on display. In fact, when she started taking longer steps, hints of lush and rounded ass grabbed both eyes and libido, dragging him across the room after her. Truly, The Walk is one of the most effective forms of mind control—or perhaps it is body control—known to womankind.

“Examining your craftsmanship?” she said mockingly after stopping in the doorway and glancing over her shoulder as though she hadn’t realized he’d followed and hadn’t been mercilessly leasing him on. The mocking smirk shifted state into an appraising smirk as she drank him—and the thick, rigid effects of her teasing—in. “I like to eat real food whenever—Omigod! I can talk normally again! Thank you, Ed! Still have some of the accent, though.”

“Uh.”

“Don’t worry.” Her voice dropped an octave and she leaned against the door frame to stand tall and erotically. As she straightened, her breasts pushed further out and pulled the shirt up slightly. Just enough to show … nothing but a bit more thigh. But it was so achingly close to showing off her—

“I like accent! And you do, also. I can tell. You send everyone else home, but not me …? You must be wanting something only Zofia can give.”

“Audrey’s here somewhere,” Ed said somewhat defensively. Then he metaphorically kicked himself because the self-proclaimed European supermodel/girlfriend was bang on in her assessment. Less than a minute of watching the sultry blonde walking most definitely had him wanting something only she could give. And after last night! Jeeeeeze!

So Ed quickly justified his stupid comment. “I figured she’d like to be closer to work after being up late last night.”

“I know I will,” Zofia said knowingly as she slid off the wall and glided across the tiled kitchen floor. “I am so worn out!”

“Not all of last night was a dream, huh?”

“Duh!” She opened the refrigerator door and looked around inside. “You dance pretty well.”

“I had a good teacher. You dance like a goddess.”

“I know. This place have a hot tub? I’m stiff all over—so are you,” she said while selecting breakfast. “But it’s a good stiff, in your case. There are a couple condoms left over from last night. Be a shame to waste them.”

“Found a whole box of the things in the bathroom.”

“Good.” Ed’s eyes glazed over as Zofia turned around. Stiff wasn’t kidding; the fridge had set off her nipples spectacularly. “After we are done eating, I want to use at least two before I have to go to work.”

Or maybe it had been something other than the cold that had put her tasty-looking breasts on full alert. “I don’t think I can wait that long. You’re already putting on a hell of a show. Think we can you know … while you’re cooking?”

“While I’m cooking?”

“I ate an hour ago.” Ed made a mental note to make her something, too, next time. Not cereal, either. Maybe I should make something now—

“But are you still hungry,” she said, interrupting his train of thought. “While I am burning to be filled.” Her hands ran through her hair as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Sated,” she whispered stretching and bending over the counter, pulling her top up and tight against her firm bottom, totally exposing the hidden prize between her legs.

“And satisfied,” she moaned. Then she looked back at Ed again and added, “I don’t think sex in the kitchen can be quite as enjoyable as sex in the hot tub, but I’m willing to risk a few eggs to be proven wrong. Audrey’s not still here, is she?”

“Don’t think so. You go to school with her; you should have a better idea of her schedule than I do.”

“If she walks in on us, I’ll really be steamed. Go get a couple of those condoms. I’m going to get started on filling one of my many hungers.”

Dreams are much more convenient than real life for sex, but nowhere near as fulfilling, thought Ed as he dashed off to the main bathroom.

Ed didn’t wilt a bit on his quest for condoms. He probably even stiffened that nigh-impossible bit more when he spun around the corner and back into the kitchen. Zofia had gotten into position, leaning up against the kitchen counter with her legs spread and ready and gazing over her shoulder with half-lidded eyes. The heels she had on must have raised her half a foot and did things with her calves and thighs that Ed hadn’t considered possible. Hitting the smooth tiles of the floor in his socks, Ed picked a very bad time to stop and stare.

The naked European supermodel/girlfriend in the hardcore porn pose gasped as Ed’s arms wheeled, condoms flew though the air, and he slid into the refrigerator and crumpled. Then she burst out laughing and strode over to help him up.

“You should have seen your face, Ed! That was priceless! You totally ….” She faded out into deep thought for a moment. “Nobody’s ever looked at me like that before.”

“You ever do that to anyone before?” Ed took the offered hand and hoped he didn’t stare at her boobs too much on the way up.

“Not in the kitchen, but even in the bedroom, Paul was blasé.” She gave perhaps a nanosecond’s thought, then added, “Your sister can have him.”

Since they were standing completely point blank, Ed kissed her, and quickly they were a gasping and panting tangle leaning up against the counter. Zofia broke first.

“Where were we?” she asked in a strangulated voice.

“You were leaning up against the counter by the coffee maker in a pose that gave my hard-on a hard-on.”

“Hmmm,” she breathed as her head cocked slightly to the side, her right eye closed half way, and rising in counterpoint, her left cheek pulled into a grin. One hand slithered over fabric covering the pulsing rod jutting up from between his legs before slipping inside to grip it directly and begin a slow, mind-bending stroking action. “We’d better get the poor thing out of those PJs before it suffocates. There isn’t much room left in there.”

Lips smothered his own witty response. His bottoms dropped to the floor and Zofia’s free hand patted around, searching for one of the dropped condoms. Ed found one first, but she took it from him, wriggled out of his grip and slid down his body. Her teeth tore the wrapper open and she smiled up at him.

Ed smiled back down and then grimaced as a lick became a sloppy kiss.

“Don’t look so unhappy. I’m just making sure it slides right on,” Zofia said, and then proceeded to user her mouth to roll the condom down. Her hands had to finish the job. “Did you go and make this thing bigger again last night? You guys are never satisfied.”

Kimberly got off on that sort of Macrophilia thing, so the answer was yes, he had, but not by much and nothing like the first time. Still, Zofia didn’t look disappointed as she kissed the tip through the rubber sheath. “Nyeh. You taste better without it. Why don’t you just make it so I won’t get pregnant?”

“What if my powers go away one day and you’re stuck sterile?” Ed asked in return.

Zofia scowled her response. “You are too logical. Too worried about future.” Standing up, she danced away from him and repositioned herself leaning against the counter. Her exquisite legs slid apart and Ed shivered.

“You start slow,” she cooed. “I don’t want to have to pick shells out of the eggs.”

Ed snuggled up behind her, his erection nestled between her cheeks. His hand swept her hair away and he kissed the back of her neck, then the side.

“What are you waiting for,” she asked, wiggling her ass.

“You said to go slow.”

“Not that slow.” She cracked an egg on the counter. “Get moving or you’re next.”

He stepped back a bit, lined up the necessary parts, and asked, “Ready?”

Yolk and white dropped into a frying pan before she answered with a reversed hip thrust and a gasp.

“I’ll take that as yes,” said Ed, placing his hands on her hips and pushing in deeper. He stood impaling her while she readied another egg. Waiting, waaaiting, and thrust quickly as she brought her hand down. She checked herself before the egg splattered.

“I knew you were going to do that!”

“Yup.” His fingers played as he moved her hips back and forth. Zofia shelled the egg and it joined the other in the pan. Salt and pepper, more than she usually used, sprinkled over top.

“Stove,” she murmured. “Step right. One, two, three, step and thrust! Two three, step. Thhhrust! two, th-three, step. Thrust! And stove on low.”

“Aww. Low takes forever,” he said, carefully pacing the vaguely circular motion of his hips.

“You are taking forever. Where was this patience last night?” She twisted her torso around for a kiss and Ed obliged happily. His hands crept upwards as she turned back and began to roll her hips quickly to spur him into faster action. Her hands reached for something to press against to give her leverage, but stopped well short of the stovetop.

“G-go left,” she warbled. With another step-slide-thrust step-slide-thrust step-slide-thrust, the two were back by the coffee machine and nothing immediately dangerous. Taking the lead, Zofia began to work her body with a vengeance.

Zofia didn’t go off like Melissa did when caressed. She seemed to enjoy his wandering hands, but maybe she was just greedier. Maybe she wanted more. Kisses rained down on her back and that was rewarded with appreciative noises. She ground into him tighter and faster. Even though he’d put her breasts mostly to normal, he’d left the sensitivity high, so his concentrating on one of those two spots worked very well. Then he had another idea. One hand toying with a breast, Ed’s other slipped to the join of her leg looking for—

Zofia straightened up a little and let out mewl as he found his target. Her hips really began to squirm as he teased her clit. Ed began to thrust with more insistence as his partner’s sexual dance movements began to lose regularity.

“Burning!” she gasped.

“Not yet,” Ed said with a glance to the right, but knowing through personal experience damn well what the girl was talking about. He was about to boil over himself. “They’ve b-barely started cooking.”

“Eddie-ot,” Zofia grunted. “Faster.”

He gave in and picked up his pace. Zofia kept trying to stand up, but that reduced the effectiveness of the strokes and, within a kiss or two, would be pressed back into the counter or draped over it.

Zofia didn’t cum as explosively in real life as she did in dreams, but Ed wasn’t in any condition to notice. He’d already been there.

“Not bad for the first time,” panted Zofia after a short rest.

“First time?”

“Dreams don’t count. I think I may keep you, but I don’t think I like it this way.” Zofia turned herself around in his arms and began to smother him with kisses. “Hard to do this when we both face in the same direction.”

Naked and tightly clasped, they began to dance their way to the hot tub.

Audrey found the blackened eggs when she got up around noon. She blinked and the odd, amber cat’s eyes darkened to hazel. Then she got properly dressed and went to the hospital smiling happily and thinking a mix of modern and ancient thoughts.

For some reason, the concrete and glass of the street seemed unnatural to her. Well duh! she thought to herself. It was probably all trees here, once.

Ed dreamed up a nice place at least. Or maybe it was Sophie. Ed and Sophie. Yeesh. Audrey looked up at the building and then along the street. Nuts. We drove here in Holly’s car. Mine’s still at home. Bus? No. Hell, I can see the hospital. It can’t be more than a half hour away, so the school has to be really close. I’ll bum a ride to the hospital afterward and bus home from there.

Behind her eyes watched another, vastly older, being. The faux Roman architecture of the columns surrounding Ed’s Condo reminded her slightly of home, but the humans had left their indelible stench on the view. Ultimately it reminded her of the thoroughly depressing way one culture of the mortals had used copies of shopping centers to bury their rulers, their pharaohs, in.

She looked at the pigeons pecking away at the sidewalk. Then at the puny trees lining the roadway. Her eyes slitted.

“Ugly, pathetic bird,” she said to one.

It was gone in a puff of red and feathers.

“Grow.” The sidewalks and pavement cracked and tore as the trees grew, their roots claiming dominance. The elf gestured towards the towering apartment building and it shook.

“No. Television was interesting. The building stays … for now.”

Ed waited for Melissa until The Professor began to pack up, but then his hand was forced. Either he confronted The Professor now or he’d probably have to wait until Tuesday. Tuesday could be too late.

“Professor, what are we really doing? What’s the Scanner actually for? I’ve seen what it can do to people.”

The Professor nodded. “All right. Fair questions you should have asked a few months ago. Into the office.” He picked up his marking and Ed followed into to the back room.

The Professor started speaking before he’d even finished sitting down behind his desk. “In the summer of 2004, Freddie Campbell, a graduate student from the University of Wisconsin, demonstrated a revolutionary device at an adult film convention in LA.”

“What was it? A warp speed vibrator?”

The Professor looked at Ed glumly, his eyes saying, “Don’t interrupt again.”

“No, Ed, it was a specialized teleprompter—a set of flat panel displays that, when configured correctly, could not only tell a person what to say but also make them believe it. The device could program concepts, thoughts, and behaviours directly into the viewer’s mind.”

“Like your projector.”

“Exactly like my projector. They both use the same software at the core. Unfortunately, its inventor refused to play along with the authorities, sabotaged the teleprompter, and disappeared with his newly-wedded wife before his device found its way into the hands of our sponsors, the Department of Homeland Security, and ultimately to me.”

“Why didn’t they just use the machine to brainwash him?”

“It won’t work on him for the same reason it won’t work on me—Red-Green-Brown colour blindness.”

“You tried it on yourself?” asked Ed, amazed.

“What scientist in his right mind wouldn’t?”

“I think you got that a little backwards, Professor.”

“I think, Ed, that you have me confused with the modern fools who call themselves scientists and quail at the thought of actually facing the unknown. The lessons of Frankenstein and sundry other scientific geniuses of fiction and fact are not wasted on me, but the vast majority of so-called scientists have taken the wrong lesson and forgotten one important truth: Frankenstein and his fictional ilk were failures. Not like us at all.”

“Us?”

“Don’t play the fool, Ed. The security tapes survived the power surge. You weren’t the least bit frightened when you tried out the scanner last Friday. Obviously it was destroyed before you absorbed anything; you haven’t responded to any of the programmed keys. I also know you have enjoyed the fruits of our labours. I would like to know how and when you programmed Melissa, but that’s for later.

“Mr. Campbell, the original’s inventor, is one of us. A challenger of the unknown! Would you believe that he used the machine to turn his girlfriend—a shy, young artist—into the most outrageous pornography actress in history? Then, once she’d given the world a good long look at what they were missing, he married the girl! He made for himself the perfect wife! Wherever he is today, I have no doubts that he is making discoveries that lesser men’s minds will not comprehend for decades!”

“But?” prompted Ed.

“But, in proving how much smarter he was than most other people, he left us in an odd position. He wrecked his machine for reasons of his own and vanished, taking his great mind out of academia and leaving us with the challenge of recreating his work … if we could.

“However, cunning information recovery specialists managed to salvage portions of the programming from the destroyed teleprompter’s hard disk. We lost the portions that helped adapt the viewer’s mind to the conditioning, unfortunately, but that is where your sensor mapping array comes into play. Once I expanded the concept out to three dimensions for more effective source location, the effect of the projector could be seen in real-time and adjusted to compensate.

“And soon Melissa’s work will bear fruit and a general solution will be found?”

“No need. In fact, it’s better if the conditioning remains slow, somewhat cumbersome, and requiring expert calibration to reduce the probability of the system being abused.

“How was Melissa, by the way? As good as she looks?”

“Uhhhh,” Ed had to pause and regroup for a few seconds. He’s worried about the system being abused, but has no problems with building his own personal harem of sex slaves?

“Better,” he replied eventually. “And she does a great sister act with her roommate.”

“This is the one with the huge jugs? A pity that you beat me to them then. Sex with a completely uninhibited woman is an excellent way to relax after a long day’s work. Two women would either be heaven or too much effort to be soothing. I suppose it would depend on the ladies.”

“Like maybe the dean?”

“Eh? Ah. Well, Laura is perhaps a little unimaginative, but she makes up for it in other ways. She is very well-read and a quick study. We talk more often than we have sex. She almost became a professional dancer when she was younger and she has stayed in practice.

“How did you find out, Ed? I was beginning to wonder if you’d noticed that anything was going on at all, and all the while, you have been accumulating your own collection!”

“Anything going on? You’ve been talking me out of topics and getting me to do cheap work for the past two years! By now I could be working on my doctorate like Melissa!”

“You have let me talk you out of topics. And if I hadn’t? Without being challenged you would have blown through your schooling, learned nothing, and still be wasting your potential by asking the dregs of society if they wanted fries with their burgers the way you were when I first hired you. Think of all the projects we have worked on. The things you have learned! The knowledge that you can now apply! You would have had none of this.”

“I tend to think of the slave labour I’ve performed.”

“Willingly performed and you’ve been well paid. What were you getting at the clown restaurant? Five dollars? I pay fifteen. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find good and keep and competent research assistants? They tend to graduate or drop out. I admit that perhaps I’ve pushed you further than most of my students, but for good reason. We do important work, and I need skilled people. Think of it, Ed, The benefits to all mankind’s mental health! And the side benefits.”

“Again, I bring up the dean.”

“She went through three husbands and was working on her fourth. Addicted to marriage and obviously she didn’t know a damn thing about the give and take required to make a long-term relationship work. Now she gets the sexual relief she craves regularly without the guilt of her enjoying a variety of different partners. She and her husband are quite pleased with the result and quite willing to share.”

“Holly?”

“Miss Vander Mullen? Too scatterbrained to apply herself fully to her studies. A mind truly is a terrible thing to waste.”

“Alright, you’ve got me there. What about Melissa?”

“A mind one should not risk watering down with the genetic lottery of love.” Then The Professor winked. “You have stopped and actually taken the time to look at her body, haven’t you? That shouldn’t be wasted, either. The man she sees socially is an idiot. A muscled Neanderthal. You are more a worthy candidate to breed her than he is.”

Ed wasn’t too sure how to take that, so he decided to write it off as The Professor just being bitter about being cut out of the loop. “Her boyfriend? He’s not that stupid. He’s just ordinary.”

“And she deserves better. Society deserves better.” His hand made a jerky wave. “Enough. The boy just makes me angry, and you want to know what the projector is for.”

“Yeah. I’ve met some people lately and they’ve had some pretty scary ideas about mind control.”

“I admit that the concept is wide open to abuse—”

“Abuse? Making women obsessed with your dick and having them call you master isn’t abuse?”

Professor shrugged and continued. “You protest too much. Used properly, it could be the answer to our nation’s most pressing security needs. I pitched the idea to the military twelve years ago in a paper entitled, Mental Reconditioning of Captured Terrorists: A More Socially Acceptable Solution Than Torture and Imprisonment. I was hardly the first to bring it to their attention; just the most successful.”

“What?”

“Turnabout is fair play when dealing with suicidal murderers. I look forward to project completion and reading the news reports of the first subject walking into a terrorist training camp and blowing himself up.”

“That’s socially acceptable?”

“Better them than us, Ed.”

“What if we brainwash the wrong guy?”

The Professor shrugged. “Eggs and Omelettes. The filtering process will be very careful, I assure you. We need the right sorts of minds anyway. Conditioning some women into abandoning their inhibitions is difficult. I imagine convincing a fanatic to kill his own cohorts would be similar.”

“Right. What would you do if I told you that you’ve been lied to and you’re being set up by a bunch of lunatic teddy bears who want to use the scanner to enslave us?”

The Professor almost recoiled at the notion. “I would have you locked up for the good of mankind. You have too active a mind to allow it to run free and unhindered by sanity.” The Professor leaned back in his chair and got ready to light his pipe before thinking better of it and instead pointed it at Ed. “You see, Ed, a great intellect is a great responsibility, and often it is sadly wasted on the weak willed and the mad. I want you to think on that.

“But now, if you don’t mind,” said The Professor as he got up and grabbed his briefcase, “I’m late meeting my wife for lunch, and she doesn’t like being kept waiting.”

The light was green so Audrey stepped off the curb and into the crosswalk, her mind busy with the mundane trivialities that seemed to fill her life. Nothing exciting ever happened. Not to her anyway. Ed seemed to be catching all the luck. He had girlfriends galore—all with curvy bodies and big breasts—all of a sudden, and she couldn’t even get one decent guy.

OK. Steve is decent, but I can do better! At least my breasts are down to something reasonable again. Huge, but reasonable. She looked down at her jutting chest. Where the hell am I going to find a bra that fits? Do they even need a bra? Haven’t so far.

“Onnnk!”

Audrey slammed to a halt as the honking car rocked as it completed it’s left turn and shot in front of her. The rear view mirror missed her by nothing but luck.

She stood frozen, stunned, for a moment, and then, yelled “Asshole!” after him. Her eyes flashed. She screamed something else at the car, something very different, and quickly got off the road.

Already racing through the next set of lights, the impatient driver’s sporty import accelerated dramatically and swerved into oncoming traffic. The impact was loud. Fibreglass and plastic flew as the car bounced off the front of the garbage truck, back into its proper lane, up onto the sidewalk, and finally crumpling the rear around a lamp standard.

Her cat’s eyes narrowed and Audrey walked on, smiling.

“Thanks for nothing,” Ed said to Melissa when she waltzed into the lab past The Professor as he strode out.

The professor paused at the door, turned, winked, mouthed, “Later,” and pointed meaningfully at the scanner. Then he walked off whistling.

“Oh so sorry for sleeping in, Eddie. You left me an exhausted wreck, I can still barely talk, and my bed was a total mess.”

Ed grinned. “Ed. Been there, done that. You should have seen what happened before I realized that orgasms didn’t really stay in the dream world.”

“Of course they wouldn’t. What, you never heard of wet-dreams?” Her eyes widened as the implications sank in. “You knew? Bastard! You could have screwed me somewhere I wouldn’t have had to clean up! Oh God. You found out at home didn’t you? What’d your mom have to say?”

“That she prayed Zofia and I were using protection, but she couldn’t see how, given the mess.”

“Oh, no kidding. You cum like a fire-hose.” She paused for a moment. “Were you?”

“What?”

“Were you and Zofia using protection?”

“Uhhhh … It was me and Kimberly.”

“Ah. I shouldn’t tell her?”

“Zofia? I didn’t even know her then.”

“But now you did, if your mom remembers it,” she said, her voice a little gravelly. “This is hell on causality, Ed. A paper on this stuff would be fantastic!”

“Yeah. And I’d spend the rest of my life in a straight jacket because of it. No thanks.”

“You know, you could probably dream yourself a doctorate or two. At least you could catch up with me.”

“I can’t do that! I wouldn’t learn anything. I wouldn’t have earned it.”

Melissa looked at him funny. “Like you earned me? Or Tanya? Zofia? Or the half-dozen other girls you’re banging?”

“I never made you sleep with me!”

“You sure made me want to throw myself at you. What’s the difference?”

“I was wondering that earlier. You know, I think I might have too much in common with The Prof. I’ve got to get out more. Meet some people outside of science.”

“And fuck them?”

“No! Well, maybe.”

Melissa laughed. “So what about The Prof? We all set to go?”

“He’s nuts and I think he’s still lying to me.” Ed paused. “Did you know that he’s married?”

“Helen? She’s a sweetie! You met her at the Christmas party last year.”

“I didn’t go.”

“Oh. You missed a great party,” ” she said, walking to and closing the door. She locked it. Then she crossed her arms and started to lift her top up.

“Uhm. Melissa? The Professor doesn’t want us making out in the lab.”

“Oh come on! How’s he going to know?” As the shirt went over her head, she stuck her breasts way out. She paused with her arms in the air and wiggled a bit. The firm, teardrop-shaped boobs swayed back and forth. With the garment clutched in one hand, the other hand enjoyed a quick squeeze.

“I dunno, maybe the security tapes. I bet he liked the one with me, you and Tanya.”

“I like what you didn’t with these, Ed. I hardly need—Yeeep!” She stood looking for cameras for a moment and then dove for cover.

“OK,” she said, popping up from behind her protective counter with her shirt back on. “We work for an hour or two, then we find a quiet—and camera free—place to take a break, what say?”

“I’d love to, but I’m going steady with Zofia, sort-of.”

“Fuck Zofia.”

“Did that already today. Twice. I think I should just try out monogamy before any more orgies. Gotta walk before you run, you know.”

“Come on. She’s nice and pretty hot, if you like blondes, but you just wished her into a girlfriend. She’s not really a girlfriend. I mean, so what? I’ve got a boyfriend, too. They can fuck each other if they want to. Nobody loses out.

“Logic. I make you horny. I’m doing it now; I can tell by the bulge. You make me horny. See?” She pulled down her shirt to emphasize of the dents in the fabric caused by her nipples. “We’ll both work a lot better without the sexual frustration, right? The Prof still gets good value on his investment.

“We’ll start with a massage, just to pretend it’s a massage, then I’ll roll over and get you all hot and bothered with my tits. We’ll play around a bit, things’ll go too far, and before you know it …” Her lips drifted across his. She stared him in the eye. “… I’ll be bouncing up and down on your cock babbling like some dumb bimbo in a porno. You still haven’t made me scream for it in real life and you keep promising.”

The shadowed figure sat in the darkened room in the traditional evil genius’s, command throne. He may have been one of the speakers in the conversation going on around him, but perhaps not. After all, he had people to do the scut work like actually talk to people.

“I thought,” said a tinny voice, “you were going to bribe him with your research lead.”

“I was,” responded The Professor, his voice crackling with a small amount of cell phone interference. “However, it turns out they are already sleeping together.”

“He used the projector on her?”

“No. I’d have that on the security tapes and she would respond to the embedded cues. Either she’s fallen in lust with the boy on her own or she’s been conditioned by other means.”

“Other means? Hypnosis? Gifted by aliens? Or a repeat of your non-repeatable ‘Evelyn’ experiment?”

“Unknown means. He may not understand it himself. She may also still be a bribe, but from another organization. I believe he has met at least one faction of the Bears.”

“Shit. What do they want? Things have been quiet on that front for years.”

“I wish I knew. I will attempt to pry more from the boy when I see him again. He has an inkling of what we are doing, but—”

“We may not be able to wait that long, Professor. My men will take care of things.”

“No. Listen to me. I need Ed. He may be tainted, and he’s certainly a socially stunted idiot, but he’s also the onl—”

The conversation went dead, and a hand drummed its fingers on the arm of the throne.

The pause dragged on.

“They shifted frequencies or cellular boundaries, my lord,” said a tattered and torn red teddy bear. “We will have the connection back in moments.”

“It is too late.” The throne turned to face the bear. “Julian is almost correct, for a change. They ran out of time early this morning.”

“The boy has inklings, does he?” asked the battered bear, the Red Duke Thlammon. “An interesting choice of words, my lord. Hardly the first and by no means the last, still we should take warnings. Those meddling writers thwarted us once ….”

“You are paranoid and forgetful, Thlammon. Mortals wear out. Only one of that band still lives, he is ancient, and as a group, they had no inklings whatsoever of that in which they meddled. In some ways they did us great good. Others, little harm. If our plan bears no fruit this time, what is another eighty years to the likes of us?

“Now calm yourself and find me more about this … Ed.”

“Ed is not important, my lord. He is just the Dreamer that my daughter has been stalking. I am having him eliminated, personally.”

“A Thinker, a Dreamer, and a fool. Suddenly the apprentice becomes of greater interest to me than the master. I think I would dicker with this … Ed. He may be useful to us. Perhaps you may kill him later, but first have him brought to me.”

“God, Ed,” said Melissa as she happily bounced up and down on his cock. He could feel the burn beginning already and from the jerky way Mel was moving, she wasn’t far behind—if behind at all. Plus she was spitting out a lot of confused, pre-orgasmic babble.

But not all of it was completely unintelligible. Melissa’s eyes were practically all white and her motions were more autonomous reflex than anything conscious and in that condition, all sorts of things come out.

“I’m going to miss thisssss! Don’ wanna remove you-ooooooo! You’re fu-fuh-fucking up everything—”

She slammed to a halt, choked in a breath, and shrieked out a deafening howl. Keening happily, she began to thrash and babble again.

“Ohhhhh yeah! That’s it! Haaaarderrrr! Eddieeeeeeeeeeee! Ieeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”