The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Richie parked the car in the quickly filling stadium parking lot. He fell back and looked at Caitlin’s face. He picked the little baggie out of his pocket and put it on the dash.

“That’s all that’s left,” he said. “The plan is to give it to Gabrielle Xu. She was, is, hopefully, Harper’s favorite. Anything less would shame her.”

“OK,” Caitlin said. She was trying to think through the fog. Her unpredictable recent love affair had come from Richie slipping something into her smoothie. He had spiked Zita’s coffee. He had peppered Oksana’s burger. He had flavored Perla’s pie. He had drugged Lilith’s drink.

And somehow Nat and Flo had gotten caught up in everything too.

To get his hands on magic beans, Richie had traded his cow. Caitlin covered her face and tried to suppress her laugh.

That. Was. So. Mean!

Richie leaned back in his chair and waited. He tried looking at her. Her body shaking with laughter she was dribbling out. Normally if her tits had been wildly jiggling like that, Richie would have been enthralled.

Now he was impatient and angry.

“Am I a bad person?” he forced the words out.

Caitlin shook her head. Harper was missing and gone. Caitlin was laughing at a mean joke Perla would have said about Harper. Caitlin swallowed her mirth. She closed her eyes and turned to look at the magically imposed love of her life.

She bloomed into a smile.

“Not a bad person,” Caitlin said. “You made a bad choice. Everyone makes bad choices. You clearly are not going to make a choice like that again. You’re not going to trade Zita for four and twenty blackbirds baked into a pie.”

Her singing voice turned to laughter again. She grabbed her face and shook her head.

“I’m sorry!” she barked.

“I wouldn’t!” Richie said, pale-faced.

Zita, Flo, Oksana, Perla, Lilith, Caitlin, and Gabrielle Xu, international pop idol. Would he trade all of them back for Harper?

No, it was the wrong thing to do it one way, there was no going back.

“I should’ve spiked Mary’s coffee,” he said. “I could ask her to give up Harper and… No, I couldn’t do that.”

“Maybe she’ll find her,” Caitlin said.

“Maybe,” Richie said doubtfully. He snatched the baggie off the dashboard and slipped it into the pocket of his skinny jeans. “You have the tickets?”

Caitlin pulled the two passes out of her bag.

“You excited?” Richie asked.

“In sharing you with another woman?” Caitlin frowned, but couldn’t keep it. “Hell yeah I am.”

“I meant about the concert,” he said. “Honestly, when I got the tickets, I figured this was going to be a nightmare that Harper loved.”

“You don’t like the music?”

“I can’t stand Hate You Love You Hate You or whatever,” he said.

“Yeah, you hear that song everywhere!” Caitlin agreed.

“But most of her songs are upbeat and fun,” Richie said.

“Except Where Are You?”

“And How Will I Get There?”

“What?”

“That’s the whole title of the song,” he said, and frowned as he sat limply. He unbuckled his seatbelt and let it retract across his body without moving.

“Oh, that’s a long title.”

“So is Hate Me Like You Love Me Like You Hate Me,” he said.

“True,” Caitlin said. “You know, you didn’t have to pretend you didn’t quite remember the title. I’m not gonna judge you on knowing your girlfriend’s favorite song.”

“I don’t know yours,” he said.

“It’s Fat by Weird Al,” she said.

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah, Dad used to sing it to me,” Caitlin said.

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” Caitlin nodded. “We going or not? Can’t get your next girl sitting in the car.”

“I guess we’re going.”

Frankie sat low behind the Burger King dumpster. He squeezed a rat between his hands. The others had already run off across town. They couldn’t keep up with a car. He didn’t have the means to track Richie that the rats did. But they didn’t have the means to move across the city like he did.

He had thought about stealing a car.

He had a better idea. He just hoped the fucking police cruiser would ditch the strip mall parking lot and fuck off before the window closed.

Cars these days had GPS and alarms and shit. He could end up making a huge amount of noise or someone could call the cops and say, “Yeah, this guy stole my car and drove it straight to 123 Go Straight To Fucking Jail Avenue.”

His heart was slow and calm. For some reason, when he was stuck, it felt like his heart was going to burst. Going to Richie calmed it down. It stopped his skin from itching. He lifted the rat to his face.

“Sorry little guy,” he said. “I know how you feel.”

The rat shit in his hands.

It hadn’t been the first time.

The cop car pulled out through the drive-thru and Richie squeezed himself tighter against the wall. They didn’t see him. He scratched his ankle on the edge of the dumpster and didn’t get up for another minute.

The rat twisted and tried to run. It wanted to go left and so he led it. The rat calmed down instantly.

Boom! Big tits lesbian tease! He had worked with the slut for months and it was only now she was taking dick.

Richie’s dick.

Frankie realized he liked her in a way he had never liked anyone.

He admired her.

He rushed up to her. She was dressed in her work shirt and black pants. She had her hat and purse in her left hand.

“Hey, uh…” He had never learned her name. It was a weird name anyways. Maybe. “Ogsma!”

“What?” she met Frankie’s eyes and paled. Her eyes flicked to his hands and she dropped her bag and her throat opened. She was about to scream.

“Fuck! Shut up!” He thrust the rat towards her face. She paled and scurried back.

“I need a drive, a quick one, then you can go to work!”

“What?” she said. “I’m already late.”

He kicked her purse towards her.

“It’s just a drive! They’re not gonna fire you!” he said. He hadn’t been fired until he had needed that bitch lawyer. Why’d Don have to grow up to be a dick?

“I—”

Frankie shoved the rat closer and kicked the bag again.

“Pick it up and let’s go!” he said. “Now!”

“I—”

The rat came closer and she flinched. She tried to dart left but his hands moved, rat aimed at her face. She wobbled and tremored.

Goddammit! Why did girls need to be bullied so much to do anything? It’s just one fucking drive!

And if he took her keys and car and just let her go to work, she’d call the police.

She picked up her bag.

“Give me your phone too.”

Nat lay in bed. She was feeling a deep cold misery. She had a purpose, the happiness and pleasure of her younger brother, Richie. He kept stunting all of the ways she knew how to help a man.

It sucked.

She picked up her phone.

He and Caity were out at the concert. Nat wouldn’t interrupt a date.

That was how she lost her best friend in grade ten.

The girls were important to Richie. Nat couldn’t destroy him like that. The only thing left was to make the girls happy.

Oksana came to mind.

The big titted lesbian was everything a guy like Richie could dream of. No chance of cheating on him with some other dude. Half as horny as he seemed to be. Only Lilith seemed to get off as easily as Oksana.

She didn’t reply.

Lilith?

Nat’s lip curled. The little sister might have been 18, but she was still in high school. Zita too. Nat was the adult in the room. She had—

Flo!

The milf had a decade plus on Nat, but clearly the eldest girls needed to stick together, could understand each other better.

Though Nat had no idea how to be a mom or to keep a job like the Burger King shift manager.

She fired off a quick text.

Five minutes later, the response finally came.

“Emergency at work. Can’t talk if it’s not about Richie.”

It wasn’t.

This was about Nat.

Perla had gone off to work at the diner.

That left the teenagers.

She texted Lilith.

“He~ey! At Flo’s! Playing with Trevor and Zita! Wanna come watch cartoons and build legos?!!!”

Watch cartoons and build Legos…

Ask a child a question…

Fuck it.

Nat swung her feet off the bed.

She remembered playing with legos with Richie once upon a time. He kept building spaceships and Nine Elevening them into her little houses.

This time she could build the spaceships.

She headed downstairs, walked to the front door and stepped her feet into her shoes.

“Fuck,” she dropped her head. “I gave him my car.”

“You on the list?” The bouncer standing in Richie and Caitlin’s path was six foot six and two hundred and fifty pounds. He wore a dark blue shirt with security across the chest. He narrowed his eyes at Richie.

Richie’s hand went to his pocket.

Caitlin drew their passes from her bag.

Security watched Richie drag his hand up and rub his hands.

“Here you go,” she said, smiling.

“You got ID?” he asked.

Richie went to his other pocket and pulled out his wallet. Caitlin handed over her driver’s license.

The security guard looked over Caitlin.

Her makeup was good, but it couldn’t perfectly cover the bruises on her cheek and burn mark on her neck. Her hand was still in its plaster cast.

He looked at Richie. Richie tried to smile, failed, as he handed over his ID.

“You need a hand stamp,” he said to Richie.

“What? Why?”

“Because this says you don’t turn 19 until next month and you’re not drinking,” he said, handing back the driver’s licenses. “Head down to the left. I’ll wait with your girl.”

He pointed and a 20 something girl waved Richie over.

“You OK?” he asked as soon as Richie was with the girl.

“Huh?” Caitlin asked.

“You look like you’ve been in a fight,” he said, guardedly.

“Car wreck,” she said. She pointed to the line on her throat and collarbone. “Seatbelts save lives.”

“Right,” he said. He gave another look at the kid. He didn’t like him. Something felt off.

“Hey, we gotta wear these,” Richie said, draping a lanyard over Caitlin’s neck. “We can go in now?”

“The line’s down the hall, passed the visitor’s locker rooms,” he said.

“Thanks!” Caitlin said, picking up Richie’s hand and leading him down. The guard lifted his walkie-talkie.

“Pete?”

“Yeah, Mikey?”

“You’re about to have two come your way. Skinny jeans and a cute ginger with a cast? Keep an eye on skinny jeans.”

“10-4.”

“Hi! Are you who we have to see for these!” A pair of ninth grade girls ran up to Mikey and flashed tickets matching Richie and Caitlin’s.

“Go over there and get your hand stamps and badges from Jess,” Mikey said, with a big smile. “Then I’ll send you down to meet Gabs.”

“Gabs?!” The girls giggled and bolted over like lightning.

Mikey frowned, looking over his shoulder. Caitlin and Richie were out of sight.

“Hey, all set? Opening act in 30.” Jacob, the manager, stuck his head in the dressing room and knocked on the door. Gabrielle was dressed in her first outfit. There were three costume changes in the act, though one happened in the space before the encore. She looked around.

None of her backup dancers needed to change. She had eight girls and four boys all set up for their parts.

“Yeah, she’s all set,” Cindy, the makeup girl, said.

“The VIP badge holders are all corralled in their box,” Jacob said. “You just need to show up for some selfies. We don’t want you straining your voice like before Toronto.”

“And they paid big money to not get you stinking of sweat and exertion,” one of the backup dancers snarked.

“She could charge more for the stink,” muttered one of the male dancers.

Gabrielle shook her head. She stood up and walked over and past her manager. She stopped at the door.

“Shit, someone grab me my water,” she said.

Cindy ran over with the bottle. Gabrielle took it. She didn’t drink much before a show. Stinking of sweat for the pictures afterwards was bad. Stinking of piss wouldn’t work. They had a canned a dancer for that back in Edmonton. Nina hadn’t missed a step that show though.

Gabrielle took a sip and dropped the bottle to her side, holding the neck between her middle and ring fingers.

“Who do we have?”

“Just twenty passes were sold. They’re teenagers, mostly. Some college kids, some high schoolers. The cutest pair of twins with their Dad,” Jacob said.

“Easy peasy,” Gabrielle said, flashing her smile.

Jacob taciturnly didn’t return it. “One thing. Mikey’s not too thrilled about one guy with his beat up girl. Rickie or Richie or something. Pete didn’t see a problem.”

“Mikey’s better at that kind of thing,” she said. “The girl’s beat up?”

“Pete said she was in a car crash. Broken wrist,” Jacob added.

“Ouch!” Gabrielle said.

“Yeah,” Jacob said. “I ever tell you about crashing my mom’s car in high school?”

“No, is it much of a story?”

Jacob frowned. “I guess not.”

“I’m sure it would be from someone else,” Gabrielle teased. Jacob looked put upon. She was never sure if he was taking her jokes badly. The others, the dancers especially, didn’t take jokes well. It was a short walk from the dressing room and around the corner. She waved when she saw Pete at the door. She had to catch her water bottle.

“Oh my god!” The eruptions hit as she walked by. Twenty tickets, seventeen females. Seventeen was probably the median age as well. The dad hung back as his girls rushed up, they were the youngest in the room and visibly so. They got hip checked back by an older girl. One twin dominoed into her sister and the sister fell down.

Peter pushed forward but Gabrielle stopped him with her hand on his chest. She dropped her bottle on a table and hurried forward to the knocked down girl.

“Easy now, don’t want anyone getting hurt!” Gabrielle laughed, she smiled at the girl who had hit the girl and wished horrible death on her from behind her showwoman’s eyes. Jacob and Pete cleared back the crowd so Gabrielle could squat down and give her hands to the fallen girl.

“You OK?”

“I’m fine! Just really amazing, Gabs!”

Oh my god! Again?! Mikey… “Get up on your feet?” she said. “What’s your name?”

The twin was up next to her sister. Her sister had both of their phones out. A dozen camera flashes had enough pictures they could animate the helping out.

“I’m Marley!”

“Nadia!” The twin jumped in.

“Can we get pictures?” They said in stereo.

“Of course!” she said, wrapping her arms around the girls’ shoulders as they sorted out their phones to take one picture than the next. Gabrielle did her best to get them each a shot where she was looking into that twin’s camera.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!”

The phones came down and Pete and Jacob were doing the best to get the others into a quick line for the first selfie. Dad stayed at the back. He flashed her a relieved smile and a big nod. She beamed back at him.

He shamelessly checked out her tits.

The dress was made for it. Gabrielle had learned to just take being the object of desire and move past it. She flashed her eyes over the line of the waiting girls. Two other guys, the first, a high schooler with a square-faced girl who was berating and using him to clear her space to the front of the line. He was thin and ineffective. He also couldn’t be motivated into pushing the other girls.

The second guy was standing at the back. He had a redhead with him. Her face and neck were marred. Her arm was in a cast.

This was the guy Mikey had picked out.

He was kinda cute, definitely closer to Gabrielle’s 26 than the pussywhipped dude. And he was definitely not pussywhipped.

The redhead didn’t give half a shit about Gabrielle Xu. Sometimes that happened to, but not in one of these VIP rooms. She gave Gabrielle the once over, almost like the dad. Though the dad had given into his biology. This girl was a butcher weighing a pig for slaughter.

Gabrielle measured up.

That wasn’t a surprise. Gabrielle was a gorgeous woman. Yeah, she could sing. She could dance. She had put in work and time to get where she was. The money, the secondary opportunities, were tied directly to her looks.

In her first onstage outfit, a glittery blue dress with white gogo boots, the curves of her body and the largeness of her breasts were on bright display. She was the tallest woman in the room, though that was hardly a guaranteed occurrence with seventeen random female strangers. Her boots had heels, but not ridiculous ones. Her long blue-black hair was styled and ready to fly for the crescendo of Rainstorm. Right before her first costume change. It framed her face that was madeup its commercial best.

The redhead was pleased.

But that was just how she felt about Gabrielle. She took that look and turned to Rickie or Richie, whichever it would turn out to be. The look the redhead laid upon him stunned Gabrielle.

Sheer ecstasy and joy to see this boy. A perfect image of love that she had tried to catch in Where Are You? And How Will I Get There?

Gabrielle had written about, dreamed about, this feeling beaming off the redhead’s face. A romantic notion, probably an exaggeration, a fairy tale. Here it was right in front of her.

He looked at Gabrielle with a soft smile. He looked injured and fragile. Gabrielle instantly wanted to give him a hug.

Maybe Mikey had seen that weakness in him? Maybe a man couldn’t give Richie what Rickie needed?

Gabrielle flashed him a smile and rolled her eyes to the front of the line.

“Oh my god! Gabs!” The girl in the front, the one who had knocked down the twins. “Is that what they call you?”

“They’re definitely some people,” Gabrielle said. “What’s your name?”

“Denise,” Denise said. “And I am your biggest fan.”

“Her biggest fan couldn’t be here today,” Richie or Rickie’s voice cut through the room despite the noise and clatter of excited girls.

Gabrielle needed to know who that person was. Denise’s name went in one ear and out Gabrielle’s other. Normally she tried to say it back to the fan. Instead, she wordlessly smiled and went in for the selfie.

Morwen’s fingers tightened in the hair at the back of Harper’s skull. The witch was giddy, her smile blossoming and shaking with abandon. She squatted down, pressing her shoulder into the back of Harper’s shoulder. Morwen put her lips to Harper’s ear.

“Do you see that?”

Harper nodded, but that might’ve been Morwen’s hand.

Harper’s stomach ran cold. They had been watching all night. Morwen had become upset when Richie had flaked out on beaning Harper’s mother.

Gabrielle was the goal, not some 40-something mom.

Gabrielle was the goal.

Harper understood it. As far as she was concerned, Gabrielle was the sexiest woman alive. Most of that was her songs, but a lot of it was her body. Her face. Her eyes.

Eyes that had just fallen on Richie with interest.

Richie was going to mirror that attention. Caitlin was basically creaming her panties fawning on Richie and Harper’s celebrity crush needed to know why.

“What’s he gonna do?”

“He’s gonna do what he said he’s gonna do,” Harper said.

“That means he’s not gonna throw away our contract,” Morwen whispered. “That means this is all over.”

Yeah, and Gabrielle had already dropped her water bottle unattended with a loose cap ten feet from Richie.