The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hyp, Hyp, Hooray! III: Nerd Science Run Amok

Chapter II.

Inevitably, the secret leaked out.

It was Kristin Winters’ fault. She had grown so confident in her ability to control people with her pendant that she got careless, and made the mistake of putting one of her victims under in an insufficiently private spot. One of Marvin’s fellow nerd outcasts, a chemistry whiz named Albert Trey, saw her doing it and put two and two together.

So that’s it, he thought. Hypnosis! I knew there had to be an explanation for all the weird stuff that’s been happening.

He didn’t know where Kristin had gotten that pendant, which was obviously a powerful induction aid; he was pretty sure, though, that she hadn’t made it herself. She didn’t have the brains for something like that. He supposed he could ask around, but he suspected that whoever was turning out the trance inducers would just play dumb. After all, if he were exposed, whoever it was would probably be looking at serious jail time.

No, he decided, better to snoop around and find out where these dangerous toys were coming from. If they were being made on-campus, though, he already had a pretty good idea where to start looking. . . .

That night, Albert sneaked into the astronomy building. If he was right, the evidence should be here; it was the only place on campus where there were tools and materials for grinding specialized lenses.

And sure enough, the lens workshop was lit up, and he could hear people moving around and talking within. He tiptoed up to the open door and peered cautiously around the doorframe.

“That’s good, Marvin,” Cindy said, holding up his latest product. “You’ve really got this down perfect.”

“Yes, Cindy,” came Marvin’s dazed voice.

“Too bad we can’t make big batches,” Cindy mused. “I bet they’d really catch on. There’s a lot of women out there with guy problems. And that means there’s a ton of money to be made.”

“Secret,” Marvin mumbled. “Dangerous . . . in the wrong hands. Might get out of . . . control.”

Cindy smiled. “And you like to be in control, don’t you, Marvin honey.” She ruffled Marvin’s hair.

“Yes, Cindy,” Marvin answered meekly.

Holy shit, thought the watching Albert. Marvin was obviously in a trance, under Cindy’s power. In his mind’s eye, he saw what must have happened. Marvin must have invented the hypno-pendant, intending to use it for himself, and somehow Cindy Newsome ended up using it on him. Now she was having the hypnotized Marvin crank out more for her friends, maybe selling them.

I bet she’s got the poor guy programmed so he doesn’t even know what he’s doing, Albert guessed. Maybe he doesn’t remember the pendants at all, when he’s not in trance.

I ought to call the police, he thought. Before things get any worse.

Then again . . . Cindy went into the small washroom attached to the lens workshop, closing the door behind her. Albert saw that she’d left the new pendant behind, on the main worktable. He’d never get a better chance.

He darted in from the hallway and scooped up the pendant. Marvin watched calmly, saying nothing; the sudden appearance of another person meant nothing to his dazzled mind.

Cindy emerged from the washroom.

“What the hell—!” she exclaimed. “Trey, what’re you doing in here?”

“I might ask, what’re you doing in here?” he retorted. “You and Marvin Finkel. Who’d’a thunk it. Ve-ry int-eresting.” He held up the pendant, letting it catch the light. Cindy’s eyes instantly locked onto it.

“Yes,” he continued, “very interesting.”

“Very . . . interesting,” Cindy echoed. The crystal, so much like the one Marvin had used on her, awakened her programming almost instantly; her eyes glazed and she began to sway rhythmically. Albert whistled; she’d gone under like lightning!

“Can you hear me, Cindy?” he asked.

“Yes . . . Albert.” She sighed, relaxing into her familiar swinging and sparkling world. It didn’t matter to her that someone new had put her under. Nothing mattered but the swinging, sparkling gem.

Albert Trey had a lot less affection for Cindy than Marvin had ever had. And after what he’d found out today—!

“Call me ‘master,’ Cindy. I’m your master and you must obey.”

“Yes, master,” Cindy said without hesitation. “You’re my master . . . and I must obey.”

Albert paused, considering. She was so far under that he could probably do anything he wanted with her, and make her think she liked it. And it wasn’t as if the snooty bitch didn’t have it coming. But that was short-term thinking.

“Listen to me, Cindy,” he addressed her.

“Yes, master.” Cindy’s voice was calm, relaxed.

“In a little while I’m going to wake you up. You won’t remember I was here. When I wake you up, you won’t notice me leaving. Our little talk never happened.

“But Cindy, from now on, for every two pendants you have Marvin make, you’ll set one aside for me.” He paused, rummaging around until he came up with a small metal box. “Put it in here.” He set the box in a dark spot behind a cabinet; Cindy’s eyes flicked briefly over, registering its location. " Then you’ll forget you ever saw it. You won’t ever remember hiding some of the pendants separately, and if you accidentally find where they’re hidden, you will immediately go away and forget all about it.

“You will think Marvin is just having trouble keeping up production, and you’ll come up with an excuse as to why, and never question it.

“Do you understand all this, Cindy? Repeat it, if you do.”

“Yes, master,” Cindy responded. Then she repeated his commands.

“Now Cindy, I’m about to wake you up. When you hear me say, ‘Wakey-wakey, Cindy,’ you will wake up relaxed and refreshed. But—if you ever hear me say the words, ‘Sleepy-sleepy, Cindy,’ you will immediately fall back into trance under my control until I wake you up again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, master.”

“Okay, then. Wakey-wakey, Cindy.” And with that, Albert left. He’d come back another time to collect his first pendant; taking the one Marvin had just made might raise questions.

After that, things spun totally out of control. Cindy was working Marvin harder than ever, but somehow it seemed fewer pendants were being produced. It had to be lack of sleep, she decided, looking at Marvin’s increasingly haggard appearance; he only showed any real energy anymore when they had sex, and that was only because she’d found she could use suggestions to make him overcome his fatigue. He’d stopped going to classes. And somehow, guys were getting their hands on hypno-pendants now, too. Marvin wasn’t responsible; she’d questioned him carefully in deep trance, and she was sure of it. She was starting to think it was time to pull the plug, but she wasn’t sure she could. There were just too many hypno-gems out there now.

Albert Trey found that out the hard way. Two weeks after he’d stumbled on Marvin and Cindy’s secret, he was blindsided by Kristin Winters. The next thing he knew, he was on his hands and knees licking Kristin’s white thigh-high boots, unable to stop, while Kristin repeated, “Good boy, Trey.” Each time she said it, he came, uncontrollably.

Finally, bored, Kristin said, “That’s enough, Trey. You can stop now. Get up.” He did. Kristin went on, “Just so you know, I can do you any time, nerd boy. Now get lost.” He stumbled off, humiliated. She hadn’t even bothered to tell him to forget.

After that, he’d lost too much self-confidence to try hypnotizing anyone else. It didn’t help that Kristin got him again three days later, this time in front of a crowd of laughing onlookers, and then again two days after that. It seemed she’d made him a personal project. He continued, however, to siphon off some of Marvin’s production, selling it to other guys on campus.

Dean Weisscheidel watched as Fairview University came apart at the seams, students, faculty and even administrators running wild. He knew he should call in the authorities, but every time he tried, he seemed to end up at the Pussycat Lounge instead. He was growing quite fond of the dancers there, a certain amazing redhead in particular. After a while, he just went with the flow. . . .

Marvin, who had started it all, prayed for a miracle. Something, anything, to put things back to normal. At least, he did when he was aware of the world around him.

The end came one week before Christmas.

Finals would have been finishing up, if classes were still being held. By then, however, the hypnotic pendants had ensnared too many people. The campus resembled a sexual version of the old Gotcha! role-playing game in which players stalked one another. To go outside was to risk being put under at any moment and made to do God knew what, anything one’s hypnotist might dream up—and people’s fantasies were getting pretty bizarre. Even staying in one’s room wasn’t necessarily safe, as Marvin had found out, and people had to eat. Classes had been officially suspended, not that it mattered; hardly anyone would have shown up anyway.

Suddenly there came the thrumming sound of many helicopter rotors. A regular fleet of copters, painted a dull matte-black and bearing no insignia, appeared and descended upon the campus. Expressionless men and women in dark suits, each one wearing wraparound mirror shades of an unfamiliar design and carrying nasty-looking sidearms, emerged. They quickly moved to secure the campus. Attempts by some of the bolder pendant-owners to mesmerize the invaders failed, and those who tried such tactics were among the first arrested.

Dean Weisscheidel was apprehended in his office, from which he was attempting to call for police assistance. The hypnotic block which had diverted him to the Pussycat Lounge whenever he’d tried to report the weird happenings on campus didn’t prevent a call regarding what he saw as a terrorist assault, but it didn’t matter. The phones were dead. When he asked the intruders who they were, the one apparently leading the team in his office flashed an unfamiliar official-looking ID card; that was the only response.

Marvin and Cindy were seized in Marvin’s dorm room. Marvin was still in trance and both were nude after a night of sex. The dark-suited intruders allowed Cindy to dress and order Marvin to put his clothes on as well, then forced the frightened cheerleader to bring him awake and took the two of them away. They were interrogated separately, under drugs. Marvin’s questioning revealed the origins of the situation, while Cindy’s revealed the way she had turned it around and provided their inquisitors with a list of those she’d provided with pendants. The drugs did not break through Albert Trey’s hypnotic instructions to Cindy, leaving unexplained how some of the inducers had ended up in male hands.

Albert himself was arrested attempting to flee by car; one pendant was found in his possession. His questioning provided the piece missing from Cindy’s account. Now armed with an apparently complete list, the dark-suited operatives combed the university grounds for the entrancing amulets. Along the way, they confiscated Marvin’s written notes and computer files.

When they finally judged the situation under control, the mysterious invaders confronted Marvin.

“Nice piece of work you’ve done here, kid,” their leader said. “Your little toys’ve turned a perfectly respectable college into a sexual madhouse. Do you have any idea how much trouble it’s going to be to bury this?”

“Who the hell are you people, anyway?” Marvin shot back. “How’d you even know what was going on here?”

“Department of Homeland Security, Division Six,” the older man responded. “It’s our business to know about this sort of thing.”

“This sort of—what sort of thing?” Marvin asked. He might be scared and disoriented, but he was still a genius. He’d picked up on the implication.

“You don’t think you’re the first one to come up with some kind of mind control technique, so you?” the lead agent retorted. “Division Six looks out for threats to national security involving mind manipulation. Your pendants, subliminal indoctrination, various drugs, rogue telepaths, supernatural entities; you name it, we deal with it.

“We investigate, neutralize, and then see to it the whole thing’s covered up. We defend the country’s peace of mind by defending its mind, just the way the rest of Homeland Security’s assigned to deal with physical threats.”

Marvin nodded, assimilating the information, trying not to choke on some of it—telepaths? supernatural entities?—and then repeated, “How’d you find out what was happening?”

The older man laughed. “Please! A college dean with a clean history suddenly starts cavorting in a strip joint, and keeps insisting he doesn’t know how he got there. A football star suddenly starts jerking off in public, and sometimes acts like a monkey. Class attendance and Web usage at the same school drops off the charts, and the local cops start getting calls about weird behavior, stuff the callers think might be drug related; then, when they investigate, some of the cops start acting weird themselves. We should have been out here weeks ago, by the look of things.”

“Maybe,” Marvin acknowledged. “What happens now?”

“Now,” came the answer, “we clean up, like always. We’ve got the pendants—yes, even the original—and your technical notes; nobody’ll be turning out any more.” He frowned. “Though I suppose, if you could do it with just Fairview’s resources, sooner or later somebody else’ll do it somewhere. Damn.” His frown deepened. “There are no secrets in science, even nerd science.”

The dark-suited agent continued, “We don’t have time to do a full wipe, make everybody forget what happened here and give them all false memories of a normal fall semester—not to mention doctoring the school records. We’ll just have to do it quick and dirty: process everyone through with a simple block against ever talking about any of this with anyone, and let ‘em go. We’ll pick up the loose ends later.”

“You’re letting us go?” Marvin gasped in relief. “I swear, I’ll never say anything, even if you don’t block me from doing so.”

“Me, neither,” Cindy chimed in. “I promise, swear to God!”

“Sorry, Finkel.” The agent glanced briefly at Cindy, then went on, “The others, we can let go. Even your girlfriend here. You, on the other hand, you’re coming with us. Don’t even bother packing.” He smiled, a wolf’s smile. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to kill you. We’re just not letting you go.”

“What?” Marvin yelled, really frightened now. “You can’t do that! This is America!”

“Yeah, I can,” was the response. “And I’m doing it for America, pal. If we left you on the loose, who knows what else you might come up with?” The agent gestured, gun suddenly in hand. “It’s time. Don’t make it any harder than it’s got to be.”

Marvin sighed and stood up.

Cindy, who’d been silent through most of this confrontation, suddenly spoke up fiercely. “No!” she screamed. “If you’re taking him, take me too! Take me too,” she repeated, and began to sob. All at once she realized that somehow, she really loved Marvin, and she couldn’t bear thinking she would never see him again.

Several agents huddled for a quick conference, from which a tall woman emerged to address Cindy.

“Girl, don’t you know what he’s done to you?” The female agent stared coldly at Marvin. “Way back at the beginning, he hypnotized you. He set you up, fixed it so you’d do anything he said when he used your trigger phrase; then he used you for sex. He raped you, girl!”

Marvin cringed.

Cindy, breathless, asked him, “Marvin, is this true?”

He nodded miserably.

“But why? Why?” Tears streamed down her face. She’d been betrayed by the one guy she’d trusted the most even before she’d gotten a hypnotic hold on him.

Marvin took a deep breath. “Because I was . . . frustrated. And because you’re so beautiful, but you’d always been so nasty to me. Because I wanted you, and I wanted revenge.” He exhaled noisily and went on, “But once I’d started, things . . . changed. It wasn’t just about the sex, or the power, or revenge; I really liked helping you study, Cindy, helping you feel like something more than a pretty face and body, and then after Biff . . . well, as I said, things changed.” He stopped, and hung his head.

Cindy stared at him. After a few moments, she started, “After Biff . . .”

Suddenly she burst out laughing. She laughed and laughed, laughed till she nearly fell out of her chair, laughed until the tears leaking from her eyes were from that instead of from her feeling of betrayal.

Finally she collected herself and spoke to Marvin again. “You don’t know what happened after Biff.” And she told him, watching as his eyes grew wider and wider behind the thick portholes of his glasses.

“Oh, my God,” he said when she finished. “All this time I’ve been feeling guilty about using you—and you’ve been using me, too! And all the weird stuff that’s happened—I knew it was going on, but your hypnotic orders kept me from realizing there were more pendants. It all makes sense now.” He met her eyes.

Cindy gulped

Suddenly, Marvin laughed, almost as hard as Cindy had. “You know what?” he said. “I don’t care! I don’t even care that you ‘suggested’ that I love you—because I think I already did. It’s just that the way things were before, it hurt too much to admit it.”

Suddenly Cindy was out of her chair and the two of them were in each other’s arms, kissing hungrily, oblivious to the armed figures around them.

“A-hem,” the lead agent finally said. Flushed, they separated.

“I hate to break this up, kids, but we’re on the clock.” The leader addressed Cindy: “You can come along if you really want—just remember, if you do, it’s for keeps.”

“I want to,” Cindy said, eyes shining. “I’m sure!” Marvin gazed at her warmly.

Suddenly, Marvin exclaimed, “Our parents! Our friends! What about them? God knows what they’ll think happened to us if we just disappear!”

“Not your problem, kid,” the lead agent responded. “It’ll be taken care of. Our people will provide your folks with an acceptable cover story—maybe not the neatest, but something they can live with. We’ve been doing this for a while now.”

Marvin nodded, acquiescing. Then they all went out the door, into the sunlight.


Marvin Finkel and Cindy Newsome disappeared into federal custody, never to be seen again. Despite the promises given to them, their families were never contacted. Rumors that they are now happily married and that Marvin is working for the government at a secret facility somewhere in the desert Southwest cannot be confirmed.

Biff Matthews, after several more episodes of public masturbation and monkey antics, suffered a complete mental breakdown. He was confined to an upstate sanitarium, where he presently subsists largely on bananas and powerful tranquilizers. His prognosis is considered poor.

Derek Jones became a bouncer for the Pussycat Lounge after the death of that job’s previous holder in a spectacular car crash. He has never been happier.

Dean Weisscheidel left his wife of twenty years and ran off with stripper Fiona Flaherty, AKA “Fire.” Two months later, after persuading him to put her name on his bank accounts and stock holdings, Fire cleaned him out and took off for Las Vegas, where she is currently headlining at Caesars Palace. She recently purchased a half-million-dollar home on the city’s outskirts. Dean Weisscheidel suffered a stroke and is now in long-term care in a persistent vegetative state. He has no visitors.

Dr. Martindale retired, and now, under several pseudonyms, pursues a hobby of writing on-line erotic fiction.

Pete Malone and Jennifer Jackson resigned from the police force rather than be fired, left town, and eventually married. They have one child.

Albert Trey transferred to Harvard, where he received a Ph. D. in chemistry. He is now a senior researcher at a major oil company. His social life is hindered by a phobia concerning jewelry, for which he refuses to seek treatment.

Bunny Jensen and Kristin Winters went on to modestly successful careers as “scream queens” in made-for-video B movies. They are currently co-starring in the pay-cable comedy series Whippin’!

Fairview University went bankrupt and was forced to close down. A few years later the defunct campus was purchased by a wealthy TV preacher, renovated and reopened as Freedom Christian University. There, students received training in wholesome family values, creationism, Republican political organizing, and evangelizing the heathen, until . . . but that’s another story.