The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Shawn Stone sat on the front porch of the Henderson’s home with a neutral look on his face and two suit cases on each side of him, not to mention the laptop computer case in front of him. The case had various floppies and CDs that had programs and information on them that would get him in a lot of trouble if the proper authorities knew he was in possession of them.

The .50 caliber Desert Eagle semi-automatic pistol was hid under his extra large shirt, at his back, in a black leather holster—and a .25 Caliber was strapped to his left ankle, under the cuff of his jeans.

His other two guns were in his suitcases.

Shawn was always cautious.

He had done it again. He had worn out his welcome. Some times he wondered why he was so fucked up in the head to do the stupid and sometimes quite violent things that he does. This wasn’t the first time he did this. This was not the first person he put in the hospital.

He really doesn’t mean to do these things, but sometimes, it’s like his mind shuts down and his body takes over, and does things so violent that it scares most people away from him. It only happens when he feels threatened, though. So that was something.

The scary thing is that he had no idea how he knew how to do the violent Martial Art moves so well, when he hardly ever studied any. He quickly found out that he was quite the expert by the time he hit puberty. Of course, the principal hated it. Most kids got bloody noses when they fought; Shawn broke bones, knocked out teeth and put people in the Intensive Care Unit, and he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt for doing it. In fact, it took a lot to make Shawn feel guilty if he hurt some who threatened him—and for some reason, he felt easily threatened. It was almost like he was part animal; like some kind of damn wolf.

This was his twelfth foster-care home and the old couple had finally just threw up their hands and said they had had enough. They were tired of him never being home, or when he is, he was always on the computer or reading a book. They were tired of him not being talkative or social. Moreover, they were pretty pissed he put their son in the hospital.

The ironic thing was, this time, it wasn’t Shawn’s fault. At least they let him keep the laptop they bought him, though. That was nice of them. They had bought it for him for his fifteenth birthday. It was sort of a way to get him to open up—it didn’t work. It wasn’t their fault; Shawn just wasn’t good with most normal people. To him it was like he and they were separate breeds. Not that one breed was better, but they were different. That’s what it felt like anyway.

Shawn was still fifteen years old, but he would be sixteen the next day. The Henderson’s had a son, Chuck, who was a star quarterback at the state college, and was twenty years old. Now this ball-boy might have been a good quarter back, and might have got good grades, but his manners were for shit. He was just a rude little prick.

He and Shawn clashed immediately. Chuck liked loud things. Shawn liked it when it was quiet and didn’t like to talk like Chuck did. In fact, that boy wouldn’t shut up. He was always talking about football. Chuck was just loud. If the ball-boy knew that loud noises sometimes made Shawn violent, he might not have blasted his music so much.

The day started off nice enough on the fifth day Chuck was there, though. Shawn got out of bed and threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, then an extra large, light blue button-up shirt that he didn’t bother buttoning—it was mainly for hiding his gun, that was tucked in the back, in its holster. Shawn never went anywhere without a gun. He always believed in the saying, its better to have and not need, then to need and not have.

He never tried messing with his hair anymore; it was a completely lost cause. His light blonde hair was always wild, standing up in odd places and astray. He tried for a long time to tame it, but nothing besides really strong hair gel worked, and he’d be damned if he would put that on his head—so he just gave up on it. However, the day was starting out good, so far.

Anyone that knew Shawn would know that this was his room. He had dozens and dozens of books scattered all over it, along with various computer parts. He had stolen some really cool attachments to bulk up his laptop. Then there were the professional throwing knives and ninja stars. For some reason he did not know, he mastered both of them weapons within a week. It sometimes worried him how good at violence he was.

He kept a throwing knife kept under each sleeve.

He also kept the five throwing stars in a special case on his left ankle.

Mainly because the .25 pistol was on his right.

His room was on the top floor of the house, as was his foster parents’ son. When Shawn was walking down the stairs at a leisurely pace, he heard a voice behind him say jokingly, “Hurry the fuck up!”

The next thing Shawn knew he was sprawling down the rest of the stairs, landing flat on his back. That hurt—especially when the .50 Caliber dug into his back. If Chuck knew how much that hurt, he would be running, but he did not. Chuck never was too bright. He just stood there feeling guilty and looking like a damn good target.

Shawn wanted to pull a gun and put a bullet in the man’s skull, but he didn’t.

The police looked down on that kind of thing. Go figure.

The next thing he knew, Chuck, the guy who pushed him, was standing over him. The man had a look off shock and worry on his face. Shawn honestly didn’t think that he meant to do what he did. The college boy was probably genuinely sorry about what he did as well, thinking it was only a joke. He would have probably apologized—if he would have had the chance.

However, as Shawn was the one lying on the floor, the fifteen year old was past giving a shit. In fact, he was past being anywhere close to rational. The term ‘Blind Rage’ was closer to what he was feeling at the moment. It was a natural basic reaction to being pushed down the fucking stairs.

Shawn did a quick spin of his legs and took the man’s feet out from under him, so that he was lying on his back. Then he, while still on his back, lifted his left leg high and brought his heel smashing down right on the bastard’s mouth, knocking out four of his front teeth. Then he did the same move again, with lightning quick speed, but this time he nailed him in the forehead so the back of his head cracked against the floor.

He wanted to do more, but thought that it probably wouldn’t be wise.

He done all of that while lying down and only using one leg. He thought it was quite impressive. However, the Henderson’s didn’t think it was impressive at all. In fact, they were pretty fucking mad about it. Apparently the state championship was in a week and there was no way in hell that their dear asshole of a son would get to play. The upside was they didn’t press charges because the asshole did push him down the stairs.

The down side? They wanted him gone.

That was two days ago. Chuck, their son, was still in the hospital—he had received a concussion and was in a coma. The Henderson’s graciously let him stay with them for the two days that it would take for the Department of Human Services to find a place for him to stay. Shawn always thought that DHS stood for “Dumb Human Shit-heads”, but that was just his opinion, and no one usually listened to him.

The truth of the matter was that Shawn just hated being part of the system. He hated being told what to do. Because of his fighting skills, he could survive on the street quite well. It was the not having any money that was the problem. If he had the money, he could drop out of high school, get a GED, and go straight to college—and he was smart enough to do that, too.

At every foster home he went to, the first place he looked for was the library. Not many people knew, and he didn’t really want them to, but he had an eidetic memory. Meaning that he remembered everything he read, seen or heard—forever. He could also speed read so fast that he could finish four hundred page novels in mere minutes and remember every damn word in that book. His favorite books to memorize were Science, Electronics (including computers), History, Weaponry, Warfare and Languages.

Although, he had to listen to the tapes at the library to get the exact pronunciation right for the languages. At the moment, he could speak, write and read twelve different languages fluently—and one of them was Sumerian. That was a bitch to learn, because there were no tapes for that and very few books—so he didn’t know if he had the pronunciation correct.

He learned weaponry because he owned four hand guns and other weapons.

As Shawn sat on the front porch, he began to think of the reasons the DHS annoyed him. Take now for example. He didn’t have any idea who would be picking him up today. Well, he knew her name, but that was all that they would tell him. Traci Williams. Hell, she could be crazy.

Like me, he thought with morbid humor. He had no idea how close to the truth he was about this particular woman.

When Shawn thought about it, he supposed that he was luckier than some kids that go through the System. He never was abused; they just never seemed to understand him and always sent him back. Or he hurt someone in a bad way and they didn’t want to be near him.

When Shawn thought about it, he knew he was probably the luckiest kid in the state when it came to the court systems. He had been shoved before a judge seven times on charges of assault and battery. Three of them were his age, and four of them were adults. However, that really didn’t matter much, because all seven of them were crippled in some way permanently by his hand, because they either attacked him or threatened him.

However, he got off every time. Yes, he was a lucky bastard. He had no idea that he was projecting his telepathic ability subconsciously to the judge and jurors to let him off.

Shawn might have been a violent son-of-a-bitch sometimes, but there were some things that he would not even do. Like taking his anger out on a girl. Never in his life had he ever hit a girl, and he would be damned if he would ever start. A person could say that he had a real soft spot for girls. They were pretty, especially the one’s that were interesting. Most of all, they were enigmas to him. And, oh, how he loved enigmas.

Then there was the fact that he was a virgin and would like to get very personal with a girl on an intimate level. Yes, girls occupied his mind a lot of the time. In fact, it was one of the few things he had in common with people his age—or even people in general. He just wished he could find a nice girl that he could share his secrets with.

Secrets that he kept well hidden. People knew that he was strong for his age, but they didn’t know just how exactly strong he was. If they did, they would try to lock him up—and if that happened, many people would die. Because there was no way in hell that anyone was putting him in a cage.

He had always been edgy about being in closed in places. It was personality quirk. He hated the feeling of being locked up. He didn’t know it was because of his genetics. His kind was meant to be free. He didn’t know that his kind were both Predator and Protector.

As for how strong he was, he wasn’t really sure, because he always held back. He went to a gym once, but he really couldn’t go full out because there were three or four people in there with him. He did lift a little, though. He bench-pressed over seven hundred pounds ten times, and was only slightly straining on the eighth lift. He stopped then, because he was afraid he would get caught. It was supposed to be impossible for someone his size to do that. He didn’t have really bulky muscles. It would have raised too many questions. So he was always careful to hold back.

Frankly, it scared the hell out of him to be able to do that.

Needless to say, he could have crushed Chuck’s skull with that kick if he wanted—but again, too many questions and too many cops. Other than that, it wouldn’t have bothered him a bit to kill the ball-boy. He knew that it wasn’t psychologically “normal” to think that way. Then again, he had always known that he wasn’t anywhere close to normal.

Shawn also had another secret that he didn’t even like to think about—not even consider. If people new, he was sure a sniper or something would take him out. If he concentrated, he could read people’s minds or emotions. He did not do it often, because he was afraid of getting caught. Besides, the few people he had tried it on had thoughts that reminded the boy of sewers.

In fact, he only did it three times in his life. He found that he could delve into memories, or just surface thoughts, and the people he did it to never even seemed to notice, but he didn’t want to chance it. He always wondered why he had to be such a freak.

That gift sort of scared him more than his strength did. At least with the freakish strength, he had some kind of control—he knew nothing about how to control telepathy. There was no telling how much he would mess a person—or himself—up if he did the wrong thing in their head. It just seemed too dangerous to him.

So, Traci Williams, where are you? he asked himself with amusement and boredom. He was very curious to see if she was like all the others DHS had sent him to.

Traci Williams pulled up to the quaint two story house that was out on the outskirts of town to pick up her new charge, Shawn Stone. She had to admit that she was exited about this. There was only about one hundred and forty eight of his kind in the entire world—he was the only one in the United States. The last one died three months ago.

Moreover, her spy network of Ability Empaths (people that scan others to see what their ability is) said that he is probably one of the most powerful Full-Hunters in the world, and he wouldn’t even be in his Prime until tomorrow on his birthday. Then he would have the speed to go with his already gained strength.

There were two different types of Hunters. The weakest were called Sub-Hunters. They had the massive strength to fight the vampires, but they did not have the mental capacity or speed to do anything else. A strong mental vampire could place them under thrall if they tried hard enough, then rip their throat out for an evening meal.

However, Full-Hunters and Full-Slayers, which she was one, had the mental capacity to do much more than hold off the vampires. They could do things like read people’s minds. Control peoples minds. Hell, they could even re-write them if they wanted to—and that was what Shawn was capable of. The strange thing was that the mental abilities usually do not come until the Hunter or Slayer’s twentieth birthday. That made Shawn special and probably quite powerful.

Shawn did not know it yet, but it was going to be his job to protect the United States from demons and vampires. There were several mystical points of convergence in the United States that demons slip out of and it was his and her job to patrol them and wipe out the enemy.

So she was there to try to convince him to be his mentor; after all, even though she was only twenty, she had a lot that she could teach him. He wasn’t the only one with an eidetic memory. She was also raised around Hunters, Slayers, Empaths and Telepaths. However, she also wanted to be his friend, after one of her Empaths gave her a report on his mental state and what he thought his self worth was.

It was a much known fact that Full-Hunters were very anti-social and was prone to be overly violent when provoked, when they were not around their own kind—meaning Slayers and other Hunters. The only normal people that they ere not violent to was women. No one knew exactly why, but Hunters always wanted to protect them. Even when they took them as Followers, they always treated them with respect.

Traci knew that if she were to get anywhere with him, she would have to show her hand first, and that would have to wait until they got back to her house, that was two towns away in Naton City—right on top of a point of mystical convergence. She hoped he liked the way she had set up his living area. The whole top floor was his.

As she pulled into the driveway of the house and saw him sitting there, she just couldn’t believe how lucky she was. Hell, maybe he and she would have some fun. Sure he had that street-kid look right now, but once they got to the house, she and Kasha could fix that right up. Traci had not taken any Followers yet, but when she did, she decided they would be female. For some reason, only a very few certain males caught her eye. They had to be as powerful as her, and as a Slayer that made the pickings thin.

His eyes are like chips of emerald, she thought with a slight smile. She pulled to a stop and got out of the pickup and slowly walked up to him. She had lived around Slayers and Hunters a long time at the Council Center, and knew how they felt about fast and sudden movements. She was careful to keep her movements at a slow, but deliberate pace. It wouldn’t do to show fear—Hunters didn’t respect it. Not that she feared him; she was a fully trained Full-Slayer.

Shain watched as the woman approached, his small, round and smoky sunglasses perched low on his nose. Even though he knew that she was trying to come off as non-threatening, he knew a predator when he seen one. Not that he had met many. This was strange, because she didn’t look that strong. But then again, neither do I, he thought wryly.

Moreover, he sure as hell never met one as beautiful as this. She was just trying to act like a sheep. But his senses were telling him that she really didn’t mean any harm. Shawn had learned to rely on these senses all his life. They were rarely wrong.

God I hope this is Traci Williams, he thought, thinking about how beautiful she was. She also had this aura about her—it was almost familiar. Almost family like. He really hoped this was Traci Williams.

This woman was about five foot eight with shoulder length, luminous red hair that was tied in a ponytail and the deepest blue eyes he had ever seen. Her walk reminded him of a giant predatory cat.

Traci knew the effect that she had on men and some women, but when she reached to where he was, Shawn just merely looked up at her, and push his small smoky, round sunglasses back up so that she could not see his emerald eyes anymore.

He just looked up at her and with a dry voice, asked the obvious. “I take it you’re Traci Williams, my new keeper.”

Traci was a little thrown off by the dry voice. It was a voice that indicated that he didn’t care one way or another—he had been through this too many times to care any more. “That would be a good guess and call me Traci… Or Slayer, its kind of a nick name,” she commented slyly.

“Traci it is then,” He replied, bending over to pick up all of his bags. He was pretty sure that Traci had seen the.50 Desert Eagle but had not commented on it yet.

“Is this everything you’ve got?”

“Pretty much. But they really don’t want me back in there. I have some books that are up stairs, but I really don’t need them.” Since I have them completely copied in my brain, his mind finished.

After he stowed his gear in the back and climbed into the cab, Traci turned to him. “So, why don’t they want you in there? You seem like a nice enough kid.”

“Their son came home for vacation and I knocked out four of his teeth, cracked his skull and put him in a coma. So, no, I’m not one of their favorite people.” This was stated with a self-depreciating shrug. He was always one for blunt honesty.

Traci’s eyebrows jumped up to her hair line. “And why did you do this?”

“He pushed me down the stairs.”

“Well, there you are. Sounds like the little prick had it coming.”

Ohh, I like her, he thought. He usually didn’t go goo-goo for girls; there wasn’t enough time for studying to do it—he just admired them from a distance. But for this one…he might go goo-goo. He thought that he would make the time.

There was just something about her. The way she moved, the way she talked, and the quality of her scent. It was a little known fact about him, but he had a nose that was about seven times stronger than a normal human. It was just another one of his well kept, strange secrets.

Talking pretty much died after that. They just drove on in silence, losing themselves to the passing of the houses and trees. When they finally came to a stop, Shawn had to admit he was a little impressed. He wasn’t overly impressed, he’d seen much better. However, he liked these types of houses better than those fancy upper-class mansions.

The house they pulled in front of was by no means a mansion, but it wasn’t a poor man’s house either. It was two stories high and looked like it had just been built. The lawn was immaculately cared for and there were well cared for shrubs that lined the walk way to the house.

“Ok, Kid. Grab your stuff and I’ll give you the nickel tour, because it’s a doozey,” Traci said as she hopped out of the truck.

She grabbed one of his suitcases and picked it up as if it weighed nothing. Shawn didn’t say anything, other than a raised eyebrow. That case was packed with collectable books and probably weighed eighty pounds. She picked it up with one hand like it was nothing but a diaper bag. This was something that he was going to be talking to her about.

However, that could wait. “Which room’s my room?” he asked as she unlocked the house and they stepped in. It was a very modern house—and again, everything in it looked brand new.

As they walked in the door, Traci started to head straight for the stairs, which there were plenty of. “Here’s, the deal, Shawnie. This house was just finished down to the last detail about a week ago. Only three people live here. That would be you, Kasha and me. Kasha and I have decided to live downstairs. Are you keeping up?”

The look she gave him asked her if she were stupid.

That merely made her chuckle.

“Ok, so this is the deal Kasha and I made out. The bottom floor is ours, bathrooms and all. Except the kitchen, which we all share. Now with that said, we also came to another agreement,”

Shawn waited patiently as they stopped in front of a door on the top floor.

With that, she opened the door she was standing at. The room was unbelievable and huge. It had a home entertainment system up against the east wall. Then, up against the west wall was a huge desk with a computer on it. Then to top everything off, he had a king sized bed.

“This is your main bedroom. There are four rooms on the top floor, counting the bathroom. One of them is a library and the other is a guest room with two beds in it. Basically, what I am saying is that everything on this floor is your domain. If we ever have company and you do not like them, and don’t want them up here—just tell them to take a flying fuck and stay the hell out of your domain. Got it?”

It was kind of cool to see a true emotion on Shawn’s face for the first time, and it was one of awe. She knew what it was like. Inside every Hunter and Slayer’s subconscious there was a need to have a domain. Something that they could point at and say, that’s mine!

The emotion on his face suddenly went back to neutral, and she didn’t have to read his mind to know what he was thinking. And she could if she wanted to, he knew nothing of shielding. “You want to know why I am giving you all of this, right. You want to know the catch.”

Shawn did nothing but nod. She really wished she could see his eyes.

“Well, Shawnie, I would like to say there is no catch, but there is. The catch is you have to read that giant book that is on the desk and the folder of papers that is under it—but read the book first, which is what is the most important. After you read everything, give me an answer. That is the first and last catch you will ever get from me.”

“That’s all I have to do? Read a book and a folder of papers? That’s it?” His voice was a little incredulous. Like a person not used to having nice things done for him. That made Traci a little sad, and a lot mad. Why did it take the Council so long to find him?

“That’s it, kid. I’m gonna go have a coke and a sandwich. When I finish, I’ll be back up and expect an answer.”

“How do you know that I will be done?” Just how much does she know about me? he thought a little panicky.

Traci just gave him a sly smile and a wink as she walked out the door, hips swaying slightly. That sly smile did not ease his worry, but the sexy look on her face, the sway of her hips, and the wink did give him weird flutters in his stomach.

What could be so important about this book and papers that I could get this great set up. They couldn’t be that important, could they? Shawn picked up the book that looked to be about four hundred pages and read the cover.

Hunter and Slayer Handbook

“That would be a good guess and call me Traci… Or Slayer, its kind of a nickname,” she commented slyly. The memory came unbidden. She was not trying to be witty or funny, if this book is for real.

With that thought, Shawn opened the cover and changed his life forever. He figured out why he was so violent. It was in the genes. Hunters were meant to hunt, to kill, hence the name Hunter. Moreover, he was a Full-Hunter, so he had all the skills. The book explained about Slayers as well, and how they were meant to kill the things that go bump in the night.

Vampires. Demons. That was something that was hard to wrap his mind around, but in the back of his mind, he knew that it had to be true. Moreover, it was easier to believe because of the things he was capable of. There were too many unexplained and gruesome deaths in the world. It also said that some of the demons were five or six times stronger than him. So, now he knew what he was meant for, to Hunt Demons and Vampires. There were side notes in the book that said there were more books on the anatomy of the demon physiology.

It was the last chapter that literally blew his mind. It seemed that the Powers That Be wanted to pay back there Champions. Not only did they let the Full-Hunters and Full-Slayers have the ability of mind control, they condoned it! He knew that he could read thoughts if he tried, but he had no idea he could control the thought process of another person. There was another side note on a page that said that there were three books that were on the shelf by his desk. It also explained that it was a sign of status to have Followers. That the fighters of good would respect you more.

He looked up from the books and saw that there were indeed about twenty books there. There were books that taught a person to subtly control a mind, how to change a personality to a more likable one and how to just rip out a personality and completely build a new one. It said that that was very advanced though.

The strange thing to him though, it wasn’t as easy as the movies made it out to be. It was complex. In order to be a master at the art of mind control, a person had to be able to multi-task. Shawn could do this. He could think of fourteen things at one time. In the book, they said a master only had to be able to think in eight different directions at once.

Another thing that blew his mind was that Full-Slayers and Full-Hunters were expected to have followers, at least two, which meant people who’s mind were manipulated. Moreover, another thing that surprised him, was that if he had three and took the third and built a completely new personality he would be considered an Elite Telepath. Apparently that would place him in very high circles in the High Council.

Hell, he wouldn’t mind having some fine women around. I could really get into this, he thought. And he knew that he would treat them right and not like completely trained dogs. That just really wasn’t his thing.

There was another thing that he thought was a little cool. Once a Full-Hunter could read minds, his aging slowed down. It would now take him twenty years jut to reach another year in age. Also, when he was in his Prime, he also moved and healed seven times faster than a human as well.

Shawn thought this odd. He closed the book with a snap!”

The boy then picked up the folder that held about six documents in it. Shawn was astounded. What it basically was, was a contract. It also said that he would be in his Prime tomorrow on his sixteenth birthday. However, what really blew his mind was that Traci wanted to be his Mentor and teach him how to be a Full-Hunter. However, since a Mentor-Apprentice Contract lasted a standard five years, she had to adopt him.

Oh, yeah, there was one other little thing the little minx didn’t even let on she knew. She just acted like it wasn’t important at all. Apparently there was a High Council for Slayers and Hunters. This High Council decided who got paid and how much.

Apparently Full-Slayers and Full-Hunters were like the CEOs when it came to getting paid. If Shawn signed the dotted line, he would be paid fifty-million dollars a year to Hunt and kill demons. Although, in the bylines, it also said that he would be killing humans too if they crossed the line too much. Even though Shawn hated to admit it to himself, that didn’t bother him a bit.

They thought this was what he should be paid for risking his life. Also, if he became an Elite Telepath he would get a raise of twenty-five million added to his pay and would also be put in charge of ten telepaths in the area.

Shawn looked up at the clock on the wall. Only six minutes had passed, so he figured he would read a couple of them mind control books. They sounded fascinating. He got up and got the Beginner Level, the Intermediate Level and the Master Level.

This was how Traci found him, just as he was snapping the book on Master Level Telepathy shut. The most important book that she wanted him to read was lying on the desk with the folder on top of it. She still thought it amazing at how this sixteen year old boy’s mind works. She also had to admit to herself that she was more than a little nervous.

She cleared her throat delicately to get his attention. “Well, what do you think? It is a life threatening job and you never know when you are going to die in it—some demons are six or seven times stronger than us. It would be safer to stay out of it. But I know that you are a Hunter, but the question is, will you Hunt and Slay with me?”

Shawn looked at her hard for a good thirty seconds. Then he picked up a pen off the desk and signed the adoption papers, the Apprentice papers and the High Council payment papers. “You got a deal.”

Then Traci let out a very un-Slayer like squeal of excitement and run over and hugged him tightly. “I hope you know what you are getting into Shawnie, because your training is going to be intense. However, the first thing I think we need to do is test your physical strength as well as your mental. Which do you want to do first?”

“I think I will go with the mental.”

“Ok, we’ll do that tomorrow. Today I want to fill you in on the more boring important aspects of this gig. Like the politics of the council and how to act in certain situations.”

Shawn let out a groan.

“The cool thing is we’re going out to dinner to meet Kasha while we talk. She’s a telepath.” She knew that would peak his interest.