The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The world is a vampire... sent to drain...

Billy Corgin from the Smashing Pumpkins sang that some years ago, and I’m convinced he was right. This world isn’t a very nice place to live under the best of conditions, even for the norms. It’s even worse when you’re in the ‘not-so-normal’ category. You might think having being metahuman, and having super powers, would make things a snap. Well, you’d be wrong. Powers make you different, and people fear what’s different, what’s strange or unknown. If you’re lucky... and I mean REALLY lucky, the difference isn’t immediately noticeable, or something you can control or conceal. People don’t wince when you walk by, they don’t run away screaming, and children don’t cry when they see you up close and personal. As depressing as my life is, at least I don’t have THAT particular problem.

But trust me, I do have problems.

As I stood leaning against the side of the River City Gazette building, in the southeast section of town, I found myself contemplating what I was going to do with my life. Since the day I was born—no. Scratch that. Since BEFORE I was even born, my life has been utterly bereft of choices. And I don’t mean I had domineering parents that decided everything for me, dictated what I could do, when I could do it, or how... at least no more so than normal parents do to their kids growing up. I mean that FATE itself, if you can believe in such a thing, has directly shaped how my life has turned out, and unless I find a way to fight against it, how my future will turn out as well.

Across the street from where I’m standing, the number seven bus pulls into the station. I merely glance at it, then turn my attention back to the trash can just on front of me, the same one I’ve been staring at this entire time. I know I shouldn’t have glanced up at the bus. Instinct. Force of habit. Whatever. When something moves in your field of vision, your eyes just naturally latch onto it. But still... I shouldn’t have looked at the bus.

From as far back as I can remember, up until shortly before my eleventh birthday, I was a happy child. Joyful, even. I laughed, I sang, I played, I told jokes. I was as happy and carefree as any child, oblivious to how dark and dreary life truly was. How lonely life could be. I was nearly as happy-go-lucky as twin sister, Katie, who is the poster child for perkiness. And then, about a week or so before our eleventh birthday, our powers came into fruition for the first time. I changed overnight, my eyes went from blue to black. Not brown, or dark brown, mind you... pitch black. My hair also changed from strawberry blonde to raven black. I even grew two inches, which now meant I towered over my twin sister, and continued growing up to my current height of six foot one. And I grew out as well as up, gaining mass, looking like nothing more than a human shaped cube until sixteen when my height finally surpassed my girth. And don’t for a minute think I was FAT—I’m talking pure muscle mass here. By age twelve, I could bench-press five hundred pounds easy. By age fifteen, I could press two tons.

A loud popping sound caught my attention, and I glanced back towards the bus. Then, I sighed deeply, moving away from the building, walking down the street away from the area. I figured it would take at least an hour or so before the bus company could arrange for a replacement bus to take over for the disable one across the street. I didn’t envy the passengers, or the driver, who would have to explain how EVER SINGLE TIRE on his bus had gone flat at the same time.

In case it’s not immediately obvious, I have another so-called ‘Gift’ besides my incredible strength, though the term Gift is ironic at best. I am, in fact, cursed. Remember that old Pebbles and Bamm-Bamm cartoon that was a spin-off of the Flintstones? Remember the weird guy named ‘Schlepprock’ who wore a dark grey suit and a big grey hat that covered up most of his face? Yeah... they called him ‘Bad Luck’ Schlepprock, because every time he wandered into view, something always went horribly wrong. Well, old Schleppy has nothing on me. A cloud of misfortune follows me around everywhere I go, affecting everyone around me, friend and foe alike. With a lot of focus and concentration, keeping my emotions in check, I can somewhat limit the severity of the effect, but at the very best, it’s still dangerous to stay around me for more than just a few minutes.

Wowzy, wowzy, woo woo.

Needless to say, I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. And the few I did have didn’t stick around for long once they figured out where all the ill fortune was coming from.

My cell phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I took it out, glancing at it. Mom calling, no doubt wondering where I was, and if I would be home for dinner. I let the call go to voice mail, sliding it back in my pocket. I really didn’t want to talk to her right now. Hell, i didn’t want to talk to ANYONE. She would only try and give me ‘the talk’ again, about being optimistic, staying positive, keeping a stiff upper lip, and all that. Like it did any good, anyway. Being optimistic and positive hadn’t kept me from being fired... again... when the computer I was working on exploded—yes, literally exploded—causing a power surge that shorted our everyone else’s computers. What use was it, having graduated high school at age sixteen with a perfect four-point-oh average, having even earned an Associate’s Degree in Electronics at age eighteen, when I couldn’t use the knowledge I’d obtained without causing major devastation in the process?

What use was it being the offspring to two of the city’s finest and most well respected heroes when all I’m really good for is causing chaos and destruction?

As I walked back towards the direction of my home, I again contemplated the path that Fate seemed bound and determined for me to walk. It was most likely inevitable, yet I refused to accept it. My choices in this matter were virtually nil, non-existent... and yet I still sought another option.

Hero or villain.

In the end, that’s what it boiled down to. I would never have a normal life. I couldn’t... not when I couldn’t hold down a normal eight-to-five job, when I couldn’t be around normal people without constantly putting them in danger. From the moment of my conception, I was destined to be apart from everyone else around me. Only my family could safely be around me for more than just a few minutes, and of them, only my twin sister was truly immune to my bad luck curse.

So, to summarize, I’m a huge, barrel-chested man, a bit of a loner, an eternal pessimist, gifted with superhuman strength, cursed with an aura of ill fortune that harms everyone around me. I’m pretty damned smart, at least book wise, with my Mother’s grasp of physics and my Father’s genius with electronics and computers. And, despite my somewhat laid back outward demeanor, I have an extremely short temper, which only makes things worse concerning my bad luck juju.

Hero or villain.

Yeah, right. I wouldn’t take that bet at twenty-to-one odds against.

As I passed the highway and headed in towards the park area, a scream drew my attention. I turned, spying a young woman struggling with a large man who seemed intent on dragging her back into the woods, out of sight from any would-be rescuers. I paused, considering. Well, even if I’m not suited to play the hero, I can’t just ignore a damsel in distress. Sighing inwardly, I rushed towards them, trying to calm myself down even as the adrenaline in my body sharpened my senses. I’m a big guy, yet I’m told I can be quite stealthy when I try to be. Considering one of my childhood trainers was a ninja, I don’t doubt it, though I’ll never be able to vanish from right under a person’s nose the way Auntie Veronica can.

I was nearly three feet away from them before they even noticed me. “What the...” the man with a bandana covering his lower face gasped, surprised by my sudden appearance. “Shit, man! Where the hell did you come from?”

“Over there,” I said, pointing behind me, back towards the road. Okay, I don’t hang around people very much, so I’m not really much of a conversationalist. “Let the girl go,” I said, plainly, cracking my knuckles. Inwardly, I was counting in my head. I’d been in their presence for about seven seconds thus far, and generally, the first effects of my bad luck aura usually start up after thirty seconds. With any GOOD luck, I could defuse the situation, make the guy run off, and get the thanks of the lovely damsel, all before anything truly bad happened.

“Let her go?” the man said, with a laugh. He pulled a switchblade, gesturing towards me with it, keeping a tight grip on the girl with the other arm. “You better turn right around and walk away, kid, otherwise this bitch won’t be the only one found missing in the next couple of days.”

Damn. Well, I did say ‘with any luck’. And with mine, that luck is pretty much guaranteed to be bad. I’m pretty tough, and pretty resilient, but I’m not NEARLY as invulnerable as my mother. Shoot Omega Girl at point blank range with a howitzer, and the only thing you’ll hurt are her eardrums. And while I was pretty confident about surviving pretty much any blunt force trauma, from a baseball bat to a wrecking ball, I didn’t do quite as well against sharp pointy objects.

As I stood there, for a moment, trying to decide the best way to disarm the guy without risking the girl’s life, the thirty second time limit passed. A minor mishap occurred with the timing mechanism of the park’s sprinkler system, causing them to activate now, instead of ten o’clock at night. The man and woman both cried out in alarm, suddenly drenched as torrents of water began spraying from all directions. I merely sighed, used to this particular mishap enough that I tended to wear black leather pants, boots, and a jacket when I went out.

Not to mention that the whole black motif just fit in with my whole dark outlook on life.

“What the fuck?” the guy yelled, releasing his grip on the girl, trying to shield his face from the water spray. The girl, freed, but blinded by the water, started running aimlessly, taking advantage of the mugger’s distraction. I started to call out to her, to tell her to stop, but instead I decided to turn my attention back to the thug. One, the farther away from him she was, the better off she’d be. Two, the farther away from ME she was, the better off she’d be. Three, I was about to throw down with knife wielding maniac, and win or lose, it wasn’t going to be pretty. In short, the farther away she was from the both of us, the better off she’d be.

“Uggghnnn!” I grunted as I tackled the guy, sending him to the ground. We hit the ground and rolled, sliding a bit in the wet grass. The knife tumbled out of his grasp, and as he went to his knees, searching for it, I followed up with a kidney punch, knocking the wind out of him. He sagged, rolling over onto his side, then fell unconscious, blood seeping from a small gash in the side of his temple. Perfect. Naturally, he’d managed to hit his head on the one jagged piece of stone within this entire grass covered field! Oh well. I glanced around, looking for something I could use to restrain him, cursing the fact that I hadn’t thought to bring something like that with me. A pity I couldn’t shoot webbing out of my wrists or anything useful like that.

“Well, fella,” I said, lifting him up by his collar, “since I don’t have a rope, I guess I’ll just have to improvise.” I yanked, ripping the sleeves from jacket, and fashioning a makeshift rope, tied him up. By this time, the sprinklers had pretty much petered out, but now the wind had shifted, and it was starting to get cold. Dragging my reluctant captive with me back towards the road, I found the girl from before, sitting in the edge of the grass, holding her ankle. Naturally, it was broken, twisted while trying to get away.

“Is there someone who can come get you?” I asked her, helping her back to her feet.

“Yes... but I don’t have my cell phone with me.”

“Then use mine,” I said, taking my from my pocket, tossing it to her. “Call the police while you’re at it, and have them come haul this guy away.” I turned and made my way back towards the road.

“Hey! Wait!” she called out, making me pause. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to stay with me until the police show up?”

I shook my head. “No. It’ll be better if I don’t. Trust me.” I turned to leave, but she called out again.

“Wait! What about your phone? Don’t you want it back?”

“Keep it. I’ve got a bunch of them.” Again, I turned to leave, but she called out once more.

“Well... what do I do if we wakes up?” she asked, gesturing to the unconscious thug. I sighed, trying to suppress my irritation at the girl’s whining. Hell, I just saved her from being raped, and/or murdered. What else did she want from me? About that time, the wind picked up again, and a small tree, little more than ten or twelve feet tall, blew over, narrowly missing her and the KO’ed crook. She gasped in surprise, stunned by how close she’d come to being kindling. Shrugging, I gestured to the tree beside her.

“If he wakes up, hit him with a tree branch,” I replied, heading back across the road.

Several blocks away, thinking about it afterwards, I felt kind of bad. Granted, she was being a bit whiny... but, then again, she HAD just barely escaped being molested by some knife wielding weirdo. Near death experiences do tend to leave a person frazzled. And, she was cold, wet, and injured, lying there in the middle of the grass with a broken ankle. I knew first aid. I could have at least stayed behind long enough to set her leg in a splint...

Or, more likely, end up causing some other tragedy and broken her other leg as well.

I grumbled softly under my breath as I continued on, pulling my jacket tighter around myself to fight off the chill. Guilt and self-doubt alone are two of the worst emotions a loner like me can experience, but together as a tag-team, they are a recipe for an inescapable downward depression spiral. On the one hand, I felt bad for not doing more to help her... on the other, I felt like even trying to do more would have made things worse.

Hero or villain.

Choice? Some choice. If I was a hero, then I was the absolute worst hero in the history of the planet.

When the rain finally started falling, I actually laughed. A perfect end to a perfect day. The sun was setting, and with the wind and rain, it felt more like February or March instead of late May. I trudged along heedless, making my way along the darkened, mostly empty streets. The rain had driven most people indoors, and it was late enough that traffic along this road was pretty sparse. I actually found myself relaxing a bit more. Alone, at dusk, walking in the dark. This was my time, after all. Yes... alone. That felt normal. That felt right. I didn’t need other people anyway. My dad always preached that a man needed to be self-sufficient, and able to get by relying only on himself. While I don’t think he meant it quite to the extreme that I’d taken it to, still, his words make sense.

Hero or villain.

Villain, maybe?

What did it take for someone to choose the dark instead of the light? Was it something a person was born to? Were some people just naturally bad straight from the get go? Or... was it more of a matter of circumstance? Were some of the most evil men in history just normal guys living their lives until one incident, one occurrence, one really bad day made them snap? Auntie Eva and I once talked about that very subject, and she stated her opinion that it was most likely a combination of the two. There was, she said, most likely a singular incident that caused Adolf Hitler to adopt his life view, and to become the man he was; however, it had to be recognized that whatever event sparked his insane insatiable lust for global domination, the same event would not affect a different person the same way. Hitler became the tyrant he was because his psyche was fragile enough that the event it question was able to twist it.

Was my psyche any less fragile that any other potential tyrannical madman? Was I destined to become the kind of evil that my parents and their friends had fought against most of their lives?

Well... I definitely had the wardrobe for it.

Arriving home, I made my way in through the side entrance, a convenience I was forever grateful for. Or... I was usually grateful for, on days when my mother WASN’T sitting there in the parlor, waiting for me to come inside. She rose to her feet as I entered, taking a look at my bedraggled state, and hugged me tightly. “My poor baby,” she murmured softly, clutching me in the way only a mother can, and I felt the coldness inside my heart thaw. I let myself hug her in return, for the moment abandoning my mantra of being self-reliant and needing no one by myself. I did, however, manage not to break down and cry.

“How’d you know I was coming in?” I asked, finally pulling away.

“I spoke to Samantha, the girl you gave your phone to. Unlike you, she actually answered when I called.” She sighed softly. “She told me what you did for her. You saved her life, Jimmy. You’re a hero.”

“Not... it wasn’t like that... you’re reading too much into this,” I protested, feeling myself blush slightly. “I just happened to be passing by, and a mugger had a run of bad luck... that’s all. I didn’t even do anything, really. Besides, it was just a one-time thing... I don’t plan on going into the ‘family business’ or anything.”

“Uh huh,” my mom said simply. “Come on,” she said gently, taking my hand. “Let’s get you upstairs, and out of those wet clothes.”

“Gee, mom,” I replied with a small smile, “better not let dad hear you say that, or he might get jealous.”

Lacie Frasier rolled her eyes. “Son, I carried you around inside my abdomen, birthed you, nursed you, and cleaned up your poop. Do you really think you have anything that I haven’t seen a few thousand times before growing up?”

Delivering in perfect deadpan, as only I can, I replied, “Well, gee, mom, it was a lot smaller back then.”

Which made her laugh. And there are few sounds in the world that can warm my heart more than the sound of my mom laughing. I’m a bit biased, since she is my mom, but I think she is the most beautiful woman in the world. She’s kind, warm, endlessly patient and infinitely understanding... hmm, well, with her kids, anyway. I’ve seen pictures of some of the tougher super villains she’s faced after the fact... so, I guess I’m lucky that I’m on her good side. Even on the few times we argued, when we got into shouting matches, she never once laid a hand on me in anger. The idea that I might one day have to face her... have to FIGHT her... hurt her... no. I couldn’t even make my mind begin to fathom such an idea.

Heh. Guess ‘Villain’ is out.

Back upstairs, she waited outside my door as I stripped, handing her my damp dirty clothes through the opening. Then I slipped into the bathroom, slipping under the warm soothing shower jets, letting them wash away all of my worries and concerns, along with the night chill, at least for a while.