The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Someone once said that in the fertile fields of imagination anything is possible. Any fantasy, any dream; they can all become real in the fertile fields of imagination. Unfortunately so can nightmares. Everyone has nightmares. Panic breeds terror and terror breeds nightmares, the worst seed to grow in the fertile fields of imagination. This is the story of a place where imagination and fantasy meet with the stuff of nightmares, joined together in an inescapable place called Fertile Fields.

In the middle of nowhere, regardless of where on the map you look, is a town. It isn’t a fancy town, it isn’t a backwoods town, it isn’t an overly crowded town. It’s just a small town like many others. There’s a main street, with mom and pop businesses on either side of the road. At one end is the large cathedral, rather out of place for the area but somehow fitting and no less tranquil on a pleasant sunny afternoon. At the opposite end of town is the diner, a popular place for the locals, at least when they aren’t spending time out in the fields. The trees grow tall and thick, shading the quiet valley and keeping it secret from much of the world. On the outskirts of town you might find an old drive-in theater, you might simply see an old gas station. What you see and what you find are really up to you.

The citizens of Fertile Fields aren’t there by choice and should you ever find yourself joining them, you won’t do so by choice either. This town isn’t on any maps. It isn’t a destination anyone sets out for. But for many years the town has been found and those who find it may wish they never had. Think of this place as a spiderweb in the fabric of the known world. While in the sun it may look bright and beautiful, a peaceful miracle of creation. The darkness hides a terrible predator, one whose legs reach far out into the minds of those who wander into its web. This predator has fangs not of flesh but of imagination and there is no escaping what you can only imagine. Fertile Fields is a trap, plain and simple, a trap from which escape is not conceived of.

Once, it was written that all roads lead to Rome. Not true, for the citizens of this one small town, all roads lead right back to Fertile Fields. Oh sure, they all try to leave once or twice. The strong ones might even manage to attempt driving away. But they all end up coming right back to that one old sign on County Road 31. It’s a fairly ordinary wooden sign, hand cut and mounted on old telephone poles. The paint seems to fade slightly over the years but the message is always clear. Welcome to Fertile Fields, it reads. The happiest little town in America. Below these misleading words is carefully painted a population number but that number is always changing. Unlike most of middle America, Fertile Fields is growing, a growth that can’t be charted or predicted.

Maybe once upon a time the sign didn’t lie. Maybe it was the happiest town in America. In some ways it might still seem that way, on the surface. Imagine a place where all your dreams can come true, where you get what you’ve always wanted. Now imagine what happens in such a place when one individual has a stronger imagination than any other.

Someone has taken over Fertile Fields and that someone has a most depraved imagination, a vivid proclivity for desiring the most lurid of things. Through his influence, everyone else is hopeless to escape, hopeless to find anything but what is darkest in their imagination. Everyone has dark thoughts they hide, much of the time even from themselves. The idle fantasy about the young girl who serves you coffee, the quick thought about how much hotter the frigid woman at work might look bent over the copier, the repressed desire to make a random woman on the bus kneel before you and serve your every desire. These are all normal thoughts we occasionally have. But what if these thoughts and more were amped up to a level much higher, a level where they seemed so real that reality itself molded to conform to their design?

Imagination is a powerful thing when allowed to run rampant. Imagine the things done in cartoons and how much fun it might be to manipulate reality the same way. Imagine altering people physically to suit your wildest fantasies, changing their very minds into whatever you would secretly wish of them. Now imagine having no control over the thoughts that pop into your head and having those thoughts themselves be the catalyst to changing the world around you. It might sound unreal, impossible, a thing only found in the pages of a book. But the odds are as you read these words, you imagined all that and formed your own picture in your head. Now what if that picture got out and became the reality in which you found yourself trapped forever. In Fertile Fields, these are not things to question. They’re real. Nightmares can sometimes be made up of the things one most wants or desires, when fantasy takes over their very reality and they find themselves unable to wake up.

Riley Sloane was an invisible. At least that was how he saw himself, or rather how he felt the world didn’t see him. And he was glad of it. Riley was a lifetime loner. No ties, no connections to the world, and that was how he liked things.

He slung the duffle bag over his shoulder, adjusting its weight once more as he turned left at the crossroads. The air was sweet, a little pungent with the aroma of some local budding foliage. He liked the solitary life, hitching the roads from time to time, but mainly hiking his way where he felt he needed to be. Today he needed to be going left.

There may have been a time several decades earlier in his life that Riley felt the need for company, the general want of attention and pleasantries. Now, he felt the open air was his home and it gave him all the attention he wanted. He stopped and breathed in the air.

It was a beautiful day and he had been walking since early morning. The sun was now high overhead and the heat of the day not bothering him in the least. The small country road was hardly more than a dirt path. It was paved but very hastily and apparently a long time ago. There were potholes all along the side so Riley strolled along more towards the center. He wasn’t feeling the pressure to stay out of the way of traffic. After all, he’d been traveling for well over ten hours and had yet to see a single car pass by.

Riley stretched and ran a hand through his dark hair, sorting out the tangles and wondering when he should call it a day. He’d do like he always did, set up his tent and sleep the night in some nearby wood. There was plenty of forestland in this area and just the beginning rises of some foothills. Possibly he’d come across some decent mountains but that was still down the road some ways.

As he trudged onward, he ignored the pressing weight of his duffle bag and focused instead on the road ahead. There were those who never saw the world like this. Business men, boring suburbanites who never left their safe little worlds. To those people the world was invisible, Riley Sloane always thought. They may call him the loner or the wanderer, but they never saw the world as it really was. It was a dynamic place full of mystery and intrigue. But with those came dangers that the common man might fret about. They chose their safe existence, knowing where their next meal was coming from, knowing they’d have the air conditioner, the heater, the TV. They were the ones Riley thought were truly lost in this world. He may be invisible, but they were mere machines.

The silence of the midday air was cut short as a distant engine roared into life somewhere far behind Riley. He turned once, looked behind him, and saw nothing. Shifting his bag back to the other shoulder, Riley looked again. Someone was coming, a rather large looking truck or something. He couldn’t quite see it just yet. Stepping off over the potholes and out of the middle of the road, Riley waited for the vehicle to get closer.

It was a camper, one of those rented RVs he ran across many times in his journey across country. They were rolling houses, he thought. People who wanted at least partially to get out into the world, but still clung to that suburban safety and comfort their minds were convinced they needed to survive. He tried to look casual and raised up his thumb. Maybe they could cut a little time off his trip today, at least take him a few miles further before he camped for the evening. But they didn’t seem interested in stopping, he thought. Being invisible had its drawbacks sometimes, but it wasn’t a big one to him. He’d go on with or without help from the occupants of this rolling house.

“Honey, maybe we should stop. He looks friendly enough.”

“Are you kidding, a man that age, looking as rugged as he looks. He’d likely rob us... or worse.”

Gerald Tripper sighed and continued on down the thin rough road. “I guess you’re right.”

“You know I’m right.” Missy said. “Besides what about the kids. You wouldn’t want them at risk being stuck back there with some stranger like that would you?”

“No.” Gerald admitted. He looked over at his wife, smiled innocently, and then returned his eyes to the road.

Behind his seat he caught the beginning to yet another fit of bickering between his children. It had been one thing after another lately. They were constantly at each other’s throats and sadly this whole trip just wasn’t working out as planned.

This was supposed to be a revitalization, a renewal of the family he remembered not long ago. It was a time when he wasn’t feeling that Missy, the love of his life and mother to his two beautiful children was drifting away. It was a time when the kids weren’t in those horribly cut off teenage years and refusing to open up. It was a time when Gerald felt he might actually be living the perfect life.

“Honey, do you have any idea where we are?” Missy asked.

Gerald looked over, studying his wife’s features. The woman was still as beautiful as she was the day they met. Her figure was as tight as ever, her little dimpled cheeks twitching as she looked out the windshield at the passing tree line. He looked ahead, rounding a slight curve in the country road.

“No, I really don’t. But isn’t this gorgeous country out here. This is what we’re here for, to see the world and enjoy it as a family.”

Missy rolled her eyes. She looked out her side window, then over at her husband. “Gerald, we need to know where we are. What if we run out of gas?”

“We won’t run out of gas. There’s plenty in the tank and we have a whole reserve tank we probably won’t even tap into. Besides, I figure this road meets up with a main state road somewhere not too far away.”

Gerald tried to ignore the loud sigh coming from the passenger seat and the growing voices somewhere behind him. The kids were at it again. He’d thought they could get along being as old as they were, but apparently he never thought right when it came to family.

“You figure Gerald?” Missy asked. “Your figuring hasn’t really gotten us much on this trip so far. You figured taking the back roads would be fun. You figured Hillary and Matthew would get along. You figured it would be the vacation of our lives. Really, Gerald, when have you figured anything correctly about this fiasco?”

Fiasco, Gerald thought. It wasn’t a fiasco. Sure there’d been the occasional bumps in the road but really... a fiasco? He gripped the wheel tighter, trying to force the calm that didn’t seem long for this day.

“Honey, it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll get us back to civilization I promise.”

Behind them both, the kids’ voices were getting out of hand.

Matthew Tripper held the bra cups up to his shirt and pranced around the cramped living room section of the RV. “Look at me, I’m Miss January. Why don’t I take this off and shake my money makers?”

“Give me that back! Give it to me you little asshole!” Hillary shouted. She went one way, then the other, trying to snatch at her younger brother’s hands.

Matthew darted back behind the small kitchen peninsula, under it, then dove onto the couch that ran along one side under some windows. “Hah... what’s a matter, you can’t take hearing the truth. You know with hooters like those you’re either gonna be a stripper or some kind of freak in a sideshow.”

“You little shit, I can still kick the crap out of you.” Hillary shouted. She successfully grabbed the bra from her brother and shoved him back until she leaned over him, breathing deeply. She wanted to ring his little neck but the little pervert wasn’t going to push her beyond her maturity. She was seventeen now, she needed to remember that there was a big difference between sixteen and seventeen. Her little twerp brother was proof of that. You’d think the kid was half his age the way he acted sometimes.

Matthew was leaning back, briefly looking worried as his sister hovered over him. He then calmed down, smiled and began blatantly staring right down her shirt.

“Damn Hillary, with milkers like those you should be a human cow or something.” He mouthed off, laughing as her face boiled red with embarrassment.

Hillary looked down and realized her shirt was cut low enough that leaning over like she now was only provided an even better view of her breasts. They almost did look obscene, hanging down below her like they did.

“Shut up.” She said rather quietly. “You know you really are a jerk sometimes.”

Walking away with the bra in hand, Hillary returned it to her bag in the back and stood momentarily looking at her reflection. She was hot, she knew it and felt it was good to be aware of. Guys had told her how she looked, but still, being called a cow was just mean. So her breasts were larger than most girls her age, and several of her teachers. It didn’t mean she was some slut or something. She was just endowed or gifted as her mom said. Her mother had been passed in the chest department when Hillary was just thirteen. Now she was much more mature in all the right places. Her hips flared out, her stomach was firm, legs toned, and she made sure to keep her lengthy blonde hair carefully kept to always appear presentable. Stupid brother, she thought, what a jerk.

Matthew was grinning as his sister reappeared in the living area. He flashed all his teeth and really mocked her.

“Aww... did the cow get her feelings hurt? Maybe you should take a nap.”

Hillary stood there, hands on her hips, fists clenched. She wanted to slap the shit out of the boy, but that’s the reaction he was probably going for. Never, would she give him the satisfaction of completely getting to her.

“I’m not sleepy twerp.” Hillary said. She sat down in a small swivel chair across from him, looking past him out the window.

“Oh you aren’t?” Matthew said. “That’s too bad, you know what helps make me sleepy?”

Hillary looked dubiously down into the little brat’s eyes. “What?”

“A nice warm glass of milk. Why don’t we squeeze a few gallons out of those puppies you got hidden inside that tank top? I’m sure there’s enough for all of us.” Matthew grinned and looked as cocky and proud of his comment.

Hillary felt nothing but rage as she screamed and lunged over at her brother. “You stupid little shit, what the hell is wrong with you?”

The fight was short lived as Matthew blocked most of her punches and their mother’s voice broke into the verbal warfare, bringing a quick and frightening silence to the two teenagers.

“Stop that fighting right now. You two are going to cause an accident or something. Just sit down, shut up, and leave each other alone!” Missy said, making her way back and standing over them.

“But mom, he stole my bra and called me a cow.” Hillary whined. She sounded much like her old immature self when she spoke.

Matthew grinned. “Yeah, well airbags here went lethal over a few little innocent words.”

Missy silenced both kids with a wave of her hands. “Look, your father and I have had enough of this bickering. Matthew leave your sister’s clothing alone, and stop calling her names. She’s a beautiful girl and deserves some respect. Hillary, you lighten up. They’re just words. Let them slide off your back.”

“Her back probably hurts too much from all the weight.” Matthew mumbled.

“That’s it,” Missy said, grabbing her son by the collar. “Get your smart mouth and stay in your cot for the next little while. I want you two to stay away from each other and cool off.”

As his wife dealt with the kids, Gerald tried to push aside all the annoyances and focus on the beauty in the landscape outside. The day was perfect. There were just enough clouds drifting peacefully above to make the whole drive calming to his nerves, despite the fact his daughter and son couldn’t stop harassing each other for ten seconds and his wife seemed too interested in doing her nails or picking apart his family vacation plans to spend any time with him.

He turned sharply around some overgrown trees near the side of the road and saw a sign ahead. It was old, the very structure of the sign looking to have been actually carpentered and carefully mounted together using precision cut joints in the wood. The sign stood along the side of the road, aged and weathered but the words still clearly legible. It said ‘Welcome to Fertile Fields’. Below that was a small painted population number, 973, and the words ‘The Happiest Town in America’.

That sounded nice, Gerald thought. A nice quaint little town in the country, one where everyone was happy and content, was exactly what the doctor ordered to make this trip more bearable. Who knew, maybe Missy and the kids would even find some way to enjoy themselves here.

As Missy made her way back up between the seats and flopped back into hers, she rubbed at her temples. Sighing, she put her feet up on the dash and Gerald took a half second to appreciate the woman’s smooth legs and hints of her thighs beneath her skirt.

“Honey, good news. I saw a sign for a town, we can stop at the next place we see and find out where we are in relation to any main highways. Plus, I think we might enjoy staying the night in this place.”

Missy looked over with tired eyes. Rubbing her hair back behind her ears, she took a breath. “What town is that?”

“It’s called Fertile Fields, sounds nice doesn’t it?”

Missy laughed a little. “Yes Gerald, it actually does. Makes me think of farmland, either that or some rather creepy fertility clinic.”

Gerald smiled and liked the levity his wife was showing. “How are the kids?”

Missy frowned and looked out the passenger window. “Don’t ask. Apparently your son enjoys taking our daughter’s undergarments, making comments on her size, and calling her a cow.”

“My son?” Gerald asked. He grinned.

Missy poked him in the arm. “Yeah, well when he does stuff like that, he’s your son.”

Gerald saw the line of trees on his right part about a few hundred yards down the road. There looked to be an old service station or something coming up. He glanced over at his wife. “What do you mean ‘making comments on her size’? Hilary isn’t big at all.”

Missy bit at her lip a moment, looking at her lap. “Not that size honey, you know... a ‘girl’s size’.”

She held her hands out in front of her mimicking breasts and Gerald’s face reddened a little bit. “Oh.” He said, looking away from Missy at the gas pumps coming up on the right. “Well, I’ll have a talk with him later.”

Missy looked over and noticed the old gas station. “Hey, finally, a place to stretch my legs.”

“Yeah,” Gerald said. “I figure we all need a break. I’ll even ask for directions and see what this town has to offer.”

Pulling the RV into a small dirt parking lot nearest the side of the building, Gerald took note of just how out of the past this place looked. It was a ratty series of connected buildings, none too terribly much bigger than the RV they were in. These buildings were mostly cedar paneling and rusted metal framework. The whole place looked ancient, as though no customers had been this way in years. Even the pumps looked more for show than any sort of functional. As he looked back at them in his side view mirror, Gerald noticed the cobwebs and thick layer of dust visible even from this distance.

“Gee, honey, you take me to the greatest places.” Missy said. She rolled her eyes and smiled at Gerald.

As they stood up and walked back towards the side door, Gerald broke off to head back further into the RV.

“Where are you going?” Missy asked.

“I need to use the little boy’s room, go on outside, I’ll catch up.”

“Dadddd.” Hillary complained. She was sitting over on the couch, reading a magazine.

Missy agreed somewhat with the sentiment. “Honey, use the restroom here. Give the kids a break.”

Looking mildly bothered but fully catching the message, Gerald rejoined Missy and the two of them stepped down outside.

The place was really quiet, not a peep coming from anywhere. Only the surrounding noises of the country could be heard. Crickets chirped and the wind swayed through the tall grass that sprouted here and there in the ragged parking lot. A few wind chimes hung from the corners of the building nearest them and made a very relaxing sound as the breeze caught them. It was peaceful, but pretty much abandoned looking.

“You think anyone’s even here?” Missy asked.

“Don’t know.” Gerald said. He looked to his right and saw a sign pointing around the back of the building. It was an old plank painted in bright white with the simple word ‘Facilities’. “Honey, I need to go. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll head on inside, see if they have some snacks or something.” Missy said, grabbing her purse from inside the RV.

As Gerald disappeared around the rear of the building, Missy leaned in and called out to the kids. “You guys stay here, we’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Gerald Tripper made his way through the high grass that was split only by the remnants of a dusty dirt trail and the occasional truck tires. They were stacked precariously all over the side and back yard of the station. He looked back off into a clearing behind the place. There was something very strange there, so strange in fact that he actually stopped to stare.

Sitting in the middle of the field, not twenty or so yards from the back of the service station, was a tent. And this wasn’t just any tent, it looked like a circus tent. Tall and round with bright red and yellow vertical stripes, the thing looked right out of an old movie. What seemed most strange of anything was the simple fact that unlike everything else, this tent was brand new looking. It looked pristine, the fabric showing no age, the colors rich and vibrant. Very odd, he thought, feeling that longing urge he’d briefly ignored.

The bathroom was just as he’d expected in a place like this, tiny and rather grungy to say the least. At least it wasn’t filled with a stench. That was one thing he’d been prepared for.

Standing over the urinal and unzipping his pants, Gerald looked ahead to the rough stone wall. There was writing all over the place. That was to be expected, but as he looked closer, the writing revealed something he most definitely wasn’t expecting.

He actually reread a few of the lines just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. No, it was definitely saying what he thought it was saying. His curiosity peaked as he zipped back up and read the sentences again.

Fertile Fields is no place to be,

They’ll steal your mind and make you see.

If you should read this, know your fate.

You’re already trapped. It’s just too late.

Gerald went to wash his hands and found more scrawled messages on the mirror. These were even more disturbing and he felt his nerves tense at the distorted images these messages brought to mind.

Came to town in 73, they got my family, then they got me.

Stopped in town for only a day, now my daughter likes being the town’s greatest lay.

Wife was intelligent before we stopped by, now she’s a bimbo who’s willing to try.

Everywhere Gerald turned the messages were much the same. Demented or just plain paranoid, these definitely weren’t the perverted limericks he was used to seeing. Although perverted did describe a few of the narratives.

Your life may be normal, when first you arrive,

But soon you’ll be fucking the rest of your lives.

The fields are fertile and so are the girls,

Find one you like and take over her world.

Fuck with her mind, that’s what this place does,

Who she was may diminish but her libido will buzz.

Turning towards the door he came in, Gerald felt the beginning of a very odd headache. The message on the inside of the bathroom door was simple and no less intensely disturbing, even though he couldn’t quite say why.

Welcome to Fertile Fields, population you. Enjoy your stay!