The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was almost ten when I next awoke. When my eyes could focus I noticed that Larry was not in his bed. Either he’d come in after me and got up before me, or he’d never come back at all. I forced myself out of bed and went to take a shower. After that, I went off to the chuck wagon and found a late breakfast.

Back in the dorm I found Larry changing his shirt.

“Should I ask?” I said.

“Well, it turned out the party options were kinda lame, but then I ran into Marina and she took me along to a party she was going to, then we went back to her place together. I wound up staying the night. I need a nap. Then I’ve gotta start studying.”

“I already had the nap, but that second part’s on my radar, too. I guess I’ll go to the library.”

We had only about another week before finals were upon us. I’d seen the looming deadline on a lot of the faces in the dining hall, worry and sudden desperation. I thought I was mostly caught up, but I’d need to review everything we’d covered in the semester.

I now had a new tool I could employ to prepare for exams, the one I’d named “Brain Sponge”, a sense of hyper-focus on a specific topic that would allow me to concentrate on the text and my lecture notes and to retain the ideas. I mapped out what subjects I’d need to review before the exams, and what amount of time I’d need to do it. I’d decided that two hour sessions were about optimum. Any more that that and I wound up with a headache and a backache from focusing on a book for so long in a fixed position.

Today I decided I’d start with Psychology, as that happened to be my first scheduled exam, so I grabbed my text and the notebook and headed off to the library.

It was a nice day, spring having made a late-ish appearance. As I walked there I thought about last night. There were a couple of new things I’d discovered that I thought were interesting.

First, I was encountering this “unconscious link” phenomenon more and more, enough so that I was convinced that it was a real thing, not just a coincidence. I was “feeling” what a person was thinking, in some general sense, before I’d ever stepped into their epicenter and looked around. I was getting an indication of their preferences, their likes and dislikes, their fears in a vague way, no specificity at all. When I did finally go into their epicenters, I usually found confirmation of what I’d previously inferred.

I wasn’t yet sure enough of it that I trusted it completely, but I was leaning in that direction. It was something I’d need to think about more.

Secondly, I’d found a new way to locate specific preferences or fears in a subject by feeling the emotion that they exhibited and looking around their epicenter storage for things that felt the same.

I’d found with Frieda that I’d been able to “hold” certain memories that exuded the same emotion and see the details of what caused that emotion. This could be a very useful tool if I learned to utilize it properly.

This ability I had to connect with people in this new way felt very strange, because it used new senses beyond sight, hearing, and touch. Now it felt like I was comparing emotions as if they were one of the body’s senses. Quite an odd sensation.

But now I was at the library, so I put those ruminations aside and returned my focus to the task at hand, prepping for exams. I found a carrel with a door, set the “In Use” sign, and opened my books. I sent myself the “Brain Sponge” image along with a time limit of two hours, and felt the outside world start to fade away around me.

As before, it was a little disconcerting to feel myself come back to earth in what seemed like a strange place. I’d been so involved with the study that I’d forgotten where I was. But it came back to me after a few seconds.

I glanced at my watch. It was going on two o’clock. I looked down at the book. I was on the last chapter, not quite through it, but close enough. I did a quick spot check by turning to random places in the text, glancing at a section heading, and seeing if I could reproduce the essence of what was written there.

I could, with surprising accuracy. I smiled. How I wish I’d found this aspect of my talent back in high school. I’d gotten through by old-fashioned memorization and study, plus the ability to sense the answer the teacher was looking for. It had been good enough to give me the grades to get admitted here, but this new skill would have made it much easier.

I packed up and, feeling a little hungry, went back to the grub hub for lunch, which I ate while I finished the last chapter.

I went back to the dorm and traded in for a different textbook and lecture notebook, and headed back to the library for another cram session.

And that was my routine for the next few days. We still had our last week of classes, which were marked by students interrupting and asking if certain topics were or were not going to be on the exam. But outside of classes I managed to get through reviews for all my other courses. Still not entirely confident, I hooked up with other students who were using their own study methods and we quizzed each other. I found I had almost everything at my command.

In the middle of all that, I came back to my dorm and when I booted up my PC, I found the email icon blinking. An email from Karen! That got me smiling.

Hi, Tom. I guess this counts as procrastination. We have exams starting soon and, yes, I have been studying, but I needed to take a break for my own sanity, so I use that as an excuse to write you.

I’m feeling sort of okay about my classes and upcoming finals, but still nervous because, like I said before, I’m still not used to feeling a bit overwhelmed at the amount of material we need to cover. Completely unlike high school, where I thought I understood everything. The study groups have helped a lot, as well as seeing other smart people also feeling overwhelmed. So I’m not alone.

And I’m starting to accept the idea that I might not be the brightest bulb in this chandelier. I’m bright enough to see my way. By that I mean that if I don’t get an A in everything, I won’t give up and feel depressed. Mostly.

The commitment to studying is not helped by the gorgeous weather here. Part of me wants to just go outside and sunbathe on a blanket with a cheap romance novel. I know I can’t, but the thought is there.

Last week was strange. It was like the whole dorm was infected with party fever. Everyone knew that exams were looming, but suddenly everyone felt like they had to blow off steam, and they sought out parties wherever they could find them so they could work off enough nervous energy to buckle down for exams. Does that happen there?

I didn’t feel much like going, but it was like everyone in the dorm was on my case, like I was letting them down or something. So in the end I agreed to tag along with a group of girls who were party hopping. There were some parties here in the dorms, and a lot of them off-campus.

I felt a little out of place, like it’s my first time to the big city, and I don’t know how things work. You and I were never big party people in high school, so I don’t really know what things were common at parties where there was a lot of alcohol or drugs present. So I’ve got to tell you I was a little shocked at what I saw. And embarrassed to admit to anyone that I was shocked. Because it would tell everyone how naive I was.

So, I’ve gotten to know a lot of the girls in the dorm, some better than others. And mostly I found that we weren’t so different, we shared a lot of the same interests and I thought we mostly had the same limits on what we’d do in public. Wrong. It turns out that a lot of them are quite a lot more uninhibited when they’re at a party and drinking a bit.

Maybe it was the pressure of pending exams that pushed them, or maybe I just hadn’t been to parties with them before, but some of them seemed to jump in with both feet. It just seemed like it was out of character for them, or maybe I don’t know them as well as I thought.

So like I said, a bunch of us went off to an off-campus party, and it was pretty rowdy. The usual thing, a lot of guys trying to chat us up, get us to go out with them, like that. But a few of the girls it seemed were ready for anything. One of them—I won’t reveal anything if I just use first names—Arlene, is a bit on the short side, glasses, pony tail, looks quite studious, in fact she’s very smart. Two drinks in her and she’s on her knees in the corner giving some guy a blow job. And his friends are standing in line behind him, waiting their turn! Can you believe it?

I went down the hallway in this apartment to find the bathroom, and I passed an open door and saw this woman from my dorm floor, Carol, inside. She’s like the top student in my physics and math classes. She’s naked on a bed on her knees, this guy doing her from behind while she’s giving hand jobs to two other guys, and she’s talking nonstop telling him what to do! “Do it harder, fuck me harder, Charlie!” It was like a completely different person from the one I’d met! Is that the alcohol doing that, or is it just the way she works off stress?

There were other examples, but that gives you the idea. I finally found a couple of girls who wanted to leave and we went back to the dorms. I shouldn’t be judgmental, I suppose. People deal with pressure in different ways, but it surprised me. College has been an eye-opener in a lot of ways. That was a new one for me.

So another couple of weeks and I’m done here for the year. My Mom is driving out to get me. We’ll rent a trailer to go behind the car so I can get all my stuff home. I’m looking forward to not studying for a couple of months, being able to veg out, to do things on a whim, to seeing you again.

I know you’re up to your ears in finals prep, but if you get a chance, send me an email. It’d be nice to hear your “voice”.

—XXX

K

I read it a second time, and it was almost like having her here, talking to me. I looked up at her picture and suddenly missed her very much. Two weeks seemed like a very long time all of a sudden.

I started composing my answering email.

The two weeks got very intense. As well prepared as I felt for the exams, there was still a lot of pressure. It seemed palpable, heavy in the air, visible on everyone’s faces.

I came out the other side feeling like an enormous weight had been taken off my shoulders. I thought I’d done all right on the exams. Even Larry, who had a practical view of his grade standing, felt like he’d done okay, too, at least at the passing grade level.

After the last exam, I came back and fell onto my bed, completely sapped of energy. I napped till dinnertime, then made my way to the mess hall and found myself ravenous. There was a soundtrack of relieved chatter in the cafeteria. I had two desserts to reward myself.

My father would be driving up to get me sometime tomorrow afternoon, depending on traffic, so I packed what I could in some cardboard boxes I’d commandeered from the back of the local grocery store. They got pretty much picked clean at this time of year, so I had made sure to make my run early.

As I packed, I thought back over the year and considered how I’d changed, what I’d learned, what was next. I thought it had been a very positive experience. I’d been a bit apprehensive at the beginning, not sure if I’d bitten off more than I could chew, if I was out of my league.

I thought I’d kept up pretty well, even if I did have some secret weapons to assist me. There were lots of smarter people than I here, but I was still hanging on to the end of the train.

The next morning, Larry’s—I never figured out what to call him. His manservant?—minion, Ames, drove down and packed all of Larry’s belongings in his vehicle. Larry would follow him home in the Krugmobile.

Larry gave me a hug, a first for him, and said, “Well, we made it through the first year. And it looks like we get to do it again in September. You’ve got my phone number at home. Call if you’re within a hundred miles of Philly over the summer, we’ll do something, okay?” And he was off with a wave goodbye.

An hour or so later, my father showed up and between us we got everything loaded in the trailer he had driven down behind the car. The questions started as soon as we’d gotten out of the city, he wanted all the details of college life, living vicariously, I thought. I filtered everything, of course, and knew I’d have to go through it all again with my mother when I got home, but it was a small price to pay.

So I answered his questions with half my attention, the other half focused on Karen, who’d be back home within a couple of days of my arrival. I had so much to tell her, as I’m sure she had for me. I dozed off with my father’s voice droning in my ear.