The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Morning came and I had to return to the dream of being Tina Clark. At least I had the pantyhose to help me remember what I was, and getting to see the further results of my correction made me completely happy. I chose the brightest outfit in my collection and took off for school. The first thing I did was greet Luke with a PDA more impressive and valuable than any iPhone. There was one last bit of homework to do, and I got to work on it when I saw the grief on Bee’s face.

“Seriously? You want me to go to this? I wasn’t the idiot who stole term papers off the Internet!” Bee said, aghast at Kylie.

“Well, we’re all flawed by the devil. We need to fix this in ourselves so we can get our lives back,” Kylie explained, looking much more dressed up than even I was. “We’re a team! Together!”

I realized that I had made more of a correction than I had thought, but there was no harm helping matters. “Redemption camp? Well, since you all think I’m some kind of queer hedonist- even though Luke can tell you otherwise- maybe I should think about going,” I said.

Bee turned pale as the other megachurch girls gladly extolled the camp’s virtues to her almost at once and almost in unison. It was enough that I tripped over Kylie’s ankle to make sure she wasn’t me. She wasn’t, but I knew something had been done, and I kept my smile hidden inside, waiting for the dream of Tina Clark to end so I could go back to reality and savor it.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, Tina. I know you had nothing to do with my teammates being complete morons!” Bee blurted out, breaking down as she went on, “And no, you’re not some kind of gay fantasy, though I’m sure Allan and Luke prayed for that to be true. Kylie, you’re right. You guys know how I feel about your church and how... devoted... you are, but I could use a little strengthening of my faith before the tests of college. We’ll go as a team. Together?”

“Together!” they cheered before going their own ways.

A vague memory of Bee being Tina Clark’s friend came up, and I stood by her. She turned to me with a shaky smile. “Sorry. I couldn’t let that- no reason you should go to extremes over their idiocy. So I listen to some nutty preacher try to purge the devil out of me. I’ve seen worse. I might even get a laugh,” Bee said, and we hugged and made up. We even traded crosses, since mine happened to be larger and she needed a bigger cross if she was going to go on an outing with the megachurch girls.

The week went by normally enough for a dream. I dated Luke, let him inside my body on Friday night, had a wonderful weekend, and started gearing up for finals. Every night I did a Facebook run, and one night I saw that all their walls had the same message- Gone to seek God, back in a week! Bee had a little bit of snark before hers; some expounded on the subject; some were still bitter at paying penance for someone else’s misdeeds. But they were all being corrected, so I shrugged and considered the deed done.

As she took attendance Monday morning, Mrs. Ward’s knee brushed my thigh, and in that instant she was Katie 1/20/84 and I was back in the reality of being a mindless drone. I hid the odd look behind a yawn and a shocked face. She passed it off as a mistake to the class, but as she got to Marnie on the attendance, I realized she was talking to me. “Russell, Marnie... going once, going twice- oh, right, gone to the Lord,” she muttered as she marked Marnie out for the week as per the note.

“She’s becoming a better person, she’s not dead!” her boyfriend objected.

“Maybe, maybe not. Since we’re covering modern history, and since I think you still have doubts about the power of money over even faith, let’s get into the televangelist scandals, the megachurch movement, and their impact on politics. Would you like to read about my favorite Swaggart, Bert?” Katie 1/20/84 said, slamming the book open to the correct page.

When the bell rang, I went straight to her. She looked at me and said, “Go to guidance during lunch and reap your reward. Your next lesson is tied to it,” she told me before putting me back into the life of Tina Clark with a swipe of her leg.

Lunchtime came, and as I headed for the cafeteria, I felt a tightness against my legs, like an invisible reminder from my pantyhose. “Gotta go up to guidance,” I told Luke, and he shrugged.

When I got to the guidance office, the words came to me as if I knew all along. “So you know I applied to Washington, and got in, but only got partial. Anything open up?” I asked the counselor with an eager grin.

“Not from them. You know it doesn’t work that way. But did you really think we’d give away our school scholarship to a cheater? You’re next in the class rank. Congrats,” she said as if she knew I was coming for it. I saw Mrs. Ward’s signature on the letter in front of the counselor and smiled. She saw where I was gazing and said, “Well, someone has to nominate you, and Ward’s the best teacher we have. We’ll let the B- in math slide. So you’re using that for Washington?”

“Yes! Oh, yes!” I squealed.

“I’ll get the paperwork ready. Just gotta find where I left the wheelbarrow,” she teased as she got up to bring me the appropriate papers. I signed with a flourish, noticing that the Clark was smaller and less distinct than it used to be. I had to remember not to do that while I was being Tina Clark. Someone might suspect that something had changed about me.

When I came back with papers in hand, Luke kissed me on the cheek. “Got the school scholarship? Cheaters never win, do they?” he asked, happy for me, but with a tinge of sadness.

“No, they don’t. I chose Washington. It was always my first choice, and now I can afford it.”

“I know, I know. It’s just... I love you, and I’m beyond happy for you, but a part of me wanted you to stick with...”

“Sorry, dahlink, but I took Spanish, not Russian, in school,” I said in my best fake Russian accent, knowing where he was headed.

“But it didn’t have to be Moscow,” he said, and I couldn’t tell if he was winking or blinking away tears. Maybe once upon a time I would have been able to tell the difference, but I wasn’t as good at being Tina Clark as I once had been.

“Lukas Moyer! You are way too young to be dating a Cougar!” I shot back, keeping it light even as I knew that this was the final separation Russ 7/19/82 had described. I had set us apart, and even as he held me close, I was relieved to have overcome that obstacle early.

When I told the Clarks about the scholarship, they bought me dinner and a purple umbrella. It was cute.

The next week went by faster than ever. The soccer team returned from their Bible camp, and if I noticed that they were wearing long sleeves and even longer skirts in June, I didn’t care. They were a correction that had already been made. They were no longer relevant to me. I did notice Bee trying to convert me, but that wasn’t relevant. She couldn’t take what already belonged to the invisible hand.

That Friday, Mrs. Ward tripped me after class and told me that my next lesson was after school. I showed up in her classroom after giving Luke some excuse, and she took me down into the soundproofed music room and sat me on one of the stools. “Everyone on the soccer team is dead,” she informed me.

I didn’t blink. I didn’t care. I couldn’t disbelieve. If Katie 1/20/84 told me that they were dead, then even if they paraded in front of me, I would believe them to be dead.

“No confusion? Good. Their bodies still breathe, but like us, they are controlled, their old selves destroyed. Unlike us, there is no new identity poured into them, and no aim. They are empty bodies for one man’s entertainment. There’s no collective good, just a collection of filth and poison and imbalance. They are not a rival. They are not a threat. We control their controller as much as anyone else. But you must understand that your handling of this correction has led to this area being led into extremism and the erasure of two dozen people with no hope of restoration. We will guide this area back towards balance, but it will be slow,” Katie 1/20/84 continued.

“Collateral damage is irrelevant. It is nothing but part of the correction,” I droned back.

“Correct. And do you understand that your friend Bee is nothing but a weapon?”

“The soccer team needed to be corrected. The time it takes to rebuild is simply quantified and structured,” I noted, my last lesson coming to the forefront of my gloriously empty brain.

“Do you understand that you led your friend to her death?” she asked sharply.

“Bee was a friend of Tina Clark. Friendship is a means to access. It is meaningless to the assigned task except as a tool,” I recited.

Katie 1/20/84 smiled. “Perfection. Your task is complete. Enjoy the benefits. Book your orientation visit to Seattle for the day after graduation. Choose summer enrollment. Your final lesson will take place there.” Her leg brushed against mine, and I was returned to my previous life.

The rest of the school year passed without incident. Luke and I became comfortable with drifting apart; he was sure that if we returned, it would be together, while I knew I would never return- or if I did, it wouldn’t be as Tina Clark. We were still prom king and queen, and celebrated royally afterwards. The soccer team all chose Christian schools, and the underclassmen who had been trying to recruit for their church had given up and been reassigned to attending the Christian high school in the next town over. The cheating scandal had plagued the team enough that most people were too leery of them to follow their lead. An overcorrection will correct itself, I noted for future use.

Mrs. Ward gave the toughest final seen in Idaho history, and of course, I aced it. But something was different about her when she returned the tests. Her legs were... she was wearing pants. As if she recognized my concern, she said, “It’s easy for you to be my best senior class when you’re my only senior class. No, no, it’s for good reason. Class, I’m having a baby. I’ll be raising the little tyke while Russ runs the gas station. I’ll miss you, but I’ll still be at every Fighting Russet game!” she said with a broad smile.

I felt empty for some reason, but that was irrelevant. Katie 1/20/84 had been retired. Mrs. Ward was just a history teacher waiting for release from her sentence. I had other tasks to complete.

Graduation came and went. My car was already packed. Luke had said his goodbyes, and hello to pretty cheerleader Chrissy, who was off to Moscow as well. I winked at her as if to give her my blessing, but I didn’t care. This wasn’t my life. This was Tina Clark’s life. It was just a fantasy I was living out until my next assignment. As soon as I got the diploma, I hugged the Clarks and hit the interstate. I left my robes on, as it had occurred to me that I could take off my skirt and have no one notice.

The pantyhose felt wonderful against my legs and my arms and all of my skin. I tuned to talk radio and listened to the stock market talk intently, letting the mantra and the invisible hand guide me to Seattle, evading all obstacles mechanically. This was my real life, and it was bliss.

I did put the skirt back on before I pulled into my parking space on campus, then removed the robes. I entered the orientation area and waited for my next assignment. The RA came in and checked my name off a list. “Tina Clark? Summer enrollment, how rare,” she said with a smile, leading me to the dorm room.

She closed the door behind her, wrapped her leg around mine, and guided my hand up her denim skirt. The touch of her pantyhose made my eyes roll in my head, and in a second I woke up to my true existence. “Name?” she barked.

“Tina.”

“I am Molly 6/23/04, undated recruit.”

She was senior to me; therefore I had to obey her. She tossed me onto the bed, and my legs spread instantly. “Naked, recruit,” she ordered. My clothes came flying off as if they were on fire. “Summer enrollment to allot for processing,” she said robotically, moving in on me and giving me a strong tongue-fucking. Each lick lapped away at Tina Clark, dissolving that dream until nothing was left but the invisible hand, and the colors in my mind, and the mantra in my ears, and my desire to be controlled to control.

When I came, I went as blank as I was when Russ fucked me. Time passed, but it meant nothing to me. I was a numb and empty shell when I heard the command from Molly 6/23/04 to stand. I stood. She commanded me into a black tank top, black heels, and black jeans that covered my pantyhose. A spiked belt came around my waist and more commands were whispered in my ear, though they didn’t make sense yet.

But then, they didn’t need to make sense. I was being sent on a task. I was being packaged appropriately for my task. That was all that mattered. The feeling of wearing pants again was strange, though.

“Go,” she ordered. The mantra in my head and the commands I had been given sprung to life, and they guided me out of the building, to the car, and to a room marked “restricted” at the airport. My hands pulled a key out of the belt buckle and opened the door. There were ten others, all female, all eighteen, all the same, all undated. They had their jeans around their ankles and were staring in mindless bliss at the screen. I took one look and understood why- the screen had the colors, those beautiful colors that filled my mind and emptied my mind all at the same time. The mantra in my head roared to life louder than ever, and as my jeans hit the floor, I felt myself disconnect from the world at the words under the colors.

Controlled to control, they reminded us, destroying us, empowering us.

I felt myself floating, then lights flickered in front of me, and I realized that we were being loaded onto a plane. Time passed with the memory of the colors and the whisper of the mantra, then we were put on a bus. At some point we were all naked. Our next command came inside a giant metal tube with many levels.

“This is headquarters. Recruits will proceed for training,” an empty voice said over a loudspeaker. There were about two hundred of us, and we obeyed the voice, followed the signs, and laid back in the familiar chairs. The chairs went all the way back, and the lights came on. An endless cycle began: fuck, mantra, economics, eat. Fuck, mantra, economics, eat. There were many meals, but we lost count. It might have been days. It might have been weeks. It could have been years. Every so often, one of us would be taken up the lift to the top.

Meanwhile, I was feeling smarter and older, like a new person, twenty-five instead of eighteen, an expert on stocks and familiar with every detail of how to manipulate things without making a single false move. Finally, I felt a buzz in my chair, and I walked forward to the lift. There were four others of us there, all female, all recruits, all once eighteen. As the lift rose, this new sense of self grew stronger, but still foreign and dreamlike. In this fantasy, I was a stockbroker, someone who’d passed all the tests, knew numbers like the back of her hand, and could calculate faster than any machine. This was who I was required to be, and that was who I was.

I looked at the four others. One was Latina, one Asian, one a tall slim blonde, the other a stocky brunette. But we were all the same. We were the invisible hand, and we were chosen to guide the world.

As the lift reached the top, an older woman greeted us from the middle of a semi-circle of five men. “I am Janet 9/21/73. You will obey. Lie down,” she ordered, and we each fell on a bed. The men moved on us, and we were fucked mindless within minutes. When my eyes were ordered to open again, I was staring at a screen and perched like I was going to be taken from behind. It wasn’t the men’s cocks that awaited me, though, but Janet 9/21/73’s experienced tongue working me in all sorts of unusual ways. But all I could see was the day’s date. 8/6/07. My date. My identity. I was Tina 8/6/07. I had a date. I had a name. All I could moan, all I could scream, all I could come to, was that realization of who I truly was: an invisible woman, part of the invisible hand, controlled to control. I was Tina 8/6/07.

My smile was brighter than ever as I sat up in unison with the other girls. “Welcome to the invisible hand. Some will stay a short time, some of you will stay forever, but you are the invisible hand, and you are controlled to control,” Janet 9/21/73 said.

We recited the full mantra back to her, all of us gleeful at making it.

“Stand,” she ordered, and we stood. Each of us was given our new assignment and our new false identity. I was Tina McMillan, nicknamed McMillion, a stockbroker who’d made a million dollars day-trading at Cortland. One by one, the rest of us learned who we were supposed to be, and where we were going to be sent. Tokyo, Paris, Caracas, Berlin... I was sent to New York to drain Central Worldwide Bancorp of all their assets, destroying their greed with our own.

I no longer needed to know who Tina Clark was. That was my past. My future was as Tina McMillan, as Tina 8/6/07, and I salivated at the ruin I would bring.

“So you are a child of war. What are you going to do in peace?” Isabelle 3/15/95 asked.

“Make French fries,” I replied. I never wanted this to end. I was the invisible hand, nothing more.

“When I was your age, I would say I wanted to be the jerk who cooked the chickens. I have a correction to make,” Isabelle 3/15/95 said, walking away.

Everything stopped again. I savored the feeling of the world ceasing to turn, knowing that it was the invisible hand that held it in place. “Tina 8/6/07,” I heard, and my legs took me to the lift where the other four of us waited. Isabelle 3/15/95 looked at me with relief, but I ignored her. If she was not assigned to the task, she was not relevant. I was ready to correct the world.

We reached the boardroom, where the board used pleasure of the flesh to affirm the control over us once more. I forgot Tina McMillan and remembered who I now was. My life came into my mind in a language I had spoken all my life, though it had never truly passed my lips. My assignment came in English, and I had to strain to understand the foreign tongue, though I had learned it when I was young. “Tiina Tuukonen, United Bank of Finland. You will empty the government welfare accounts. Before socialism rises, it must be destroyed,” I was told.

My brow furrowed as I translated. “So I finish them,” I said, hearing the heavy accent of my words. Someone laughed, but I could not understand why.

“Yes. It will complete the correction and lead to the change that is required,” Barbra 9/10/64 told me.

“The invisible hand controls everything. To control, I must be controlled,” I droned in my now-native Finnish and exited the room, seeing nothing until I was in the white skirtsuit that looked like something out of the ’60s. American jaws dropped like they were in heaven, but everyone knew I was bound for Helsinki.