The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I was dreading this. I’d been dreading this for days... weeks, actually. I had been dreading it long before my life fell apart, long before.... I’d always assumed I would have this conversation with Jessica at my side, holding my hand, that we would be giving each other the courage to say what needed to be said.

Now... everything was different. Everything sucked, but I still had to do this. Jess never shrank back from her responsibilities, and as much as I wasn’t looking forward to this, I owed it to her to follow through. Knocking on the door, I stood back, and waited, preparing myself.

After a moment, the door opened, and the matronly brunette took a step outside. “Yes, can I help... you?” Her eyes narrowed, and her hand clenched so tightly on the edge of the door that her knuckles popped. She stood there silently, merely staring at me for a long moment, a myriad of expressions washing over her face, before simply shaking her head. “Oh no. Oh HELL no. I am not doing this. Not now. Not ever. Leave. Now.”

“Wait, please, Mrs. DuMont!” I called after her, placing a hand on the door to keep it from slamming closed. I had to fight with her slightly to keep her from shutting me out. This was going much worse than I’d expected. “Please, ma’am, let me explain!”

“Let you explain?” the older woman growled, releasing the door to glare at me. “Explain WHAT? That you’re a super-powered freak? Or that you’re a sicko dyke? It can’t be to tell me that you’re a poor little rich girl; I already knew that! Or maybe you want to tell me that all this time you’ve been lying to me, hiding from me? So now here you are, showing up here in your... costume, as some masked freak without the mask. Do you think that coming out to me—that showing me the face that you hide from the public in your SHAME—somehow makes up for hiding it all these years? Or that you seduced my daughter—MY ONLY CHILD—into your sick, twisted, DANGEROUS lifestyle?” She narrowed her eyes, getting directly in my face.

“Or... maybe you’re here to apologize for the fact that you got her KILLED?” she yelled. I winced, taking a step back. “The great Luminaire! Oh, the rest of them think you’re so special... the so-called ‘Light of Justice’! But you’re really just an unnatural mutant MONSTER! You couldn’t even protect one... innocent... little... GIRL!” Mrs. DuMont collapsed sobbing against the door frame.

Maybe this could be my opening. Maybe she could see that I was hurting just as much as her. I reached out and touched her shoulder. “I...I’m sorry. So... so... sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen...”

“Oh? You didn’t mean for it to happen?!?” she repeated incredulously. “Well doesn’t THAT just make everything all unicorns and rainbows!! What the hell did you THINK was going to happen? She should have NEVER EVEN BEEN THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!” she screamed, tears running freely down her face.

“She should never have been NEAR YOU! You’re a goddamn CRAZY FREAK! You seduced my poor little girl with your sick lifestyle. Fighting criminals and maniacs with guns and bombs and super powers might be how you get YOUR kicks... that and your perverted sex, but Jessica was just a normal girl! You should have never put her in a position of being in danger in the first place! You say you LOVED her? You selfish little bitch—you don’t know the meaning of the word! And I can guarantee that she didn’t love YOU! She was just... confused. You dazzled her with your crazy lesbo-mutant lifestyle. She was innocent... and confused... and you got her KILLED!”

Suddenly she turned cold and calm. If anything, that scared me more than the screaming and crying. “I should have KNOWN something was wrong when she stopped hanging out with Whitney. I should have KNOWN it was you behind it all. You never liked Whitney, did you? Well let me tell you something Miss Rich-Lezzie-Superfreak, Whitney wasn’t rich, but she was a REAL friend. Whitney REALLY cared about Jess. Whitney never would have lured her into perversion. Whitney never would have gotten... gotten her...”

She was so wrong about me... about Jess... about US... and about Whitney too. There was so much I’d wanted to say to Mrs. DuMont, so many things Jess and I had said and done, so much that I wanted to share with her. So many things I’d wanted to tell her about the girl I loved. But now... now it was all ruined. Now she would never listen to me. She was beyond angry... She was insane with grief, with sadness, with mourning, with overwhelming bottomless pain... just as I was. I knew exactly what she was feeling. And... I couldn’t blame her for focusing all that rage and grief on me. After all, I was to blame. Oh, not the way she thought—if anything, Jess seduced ME. But even if she had all the details wrong, even if she had taken the worst possible route to get there, she had reached the right conclusion. It was all my fault that Jessica DuMont was dead.

“I... I’m sorry,” I said again, turning away. “This... this was a bad idea. I didn’t want to make things worse for you...” I started to take off, but paused, remembering the package I’d brought. Taking it from the pouch on my belt, I held it out to her. “Um... I just wanted... this was... Jessica’s... I thought you might want an album of her pictures for... the... um, funeral...” Rather than speak, she snatched the book from my hands, and drew back into her house.

“The funeral... Oh, God... Jess... I have to...”

I saw a window, a vulnerability, a chink in Mrs. DuMont’s armor. And Goddess help me, I grasped at that straw. Could I somehow redeem myself in her eyes even now? “I could... um... help—”

But no. The hatred flashing in her eyes dashed all my hopes. “YOU! I think you’ve ‘helped’ quite enough ‘Katie’, or ‘Luminaire’, or whatever you REALLY are. You will not ‘help’ with the funeral. You will not COME to the funeral. You will not pollute her memory with your presence AT ALL! No CARD. No FLOWERS. NOTHING. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear about you. I don’t want to know that you exist. If you see me on the street, go to the other side. If you see me being mugged, or even going up flames, I want you to turn around and just fly away! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, YOU... YOU GODDAMN UNHOLY MONSTROSITY?”

I nodded silently, then cried softly as she slammed her door in my face. I hadn’t protected Jess. She’d been standing just a few feet away from me when the shooter appeared. I’d been so surprised that I’d just frozen. I’d just stood there like a helpless frightened little fool while the woman I claimed to love was being murdered. Murdered by my OWN superpower. I’m beyond useless. I’m a disease. I’m a jinx. I killed the woman I love, just by being me. Mrs. DuMont’s right. Love? I don’t know the meaning of the word.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I took to the skies, flying off aimlessly, no destination in mind, just wanting, needing, to outrun the pain...

It wasn’t pain really. It was just a nagging... discomfort.

Nigel was waiting in his makeshift office in the Prentiss Mansion. It was a luxuriously appointed 3rd story room attached to a large outdoor balcony, with a commanding view of the Willamette River and of the boat house Angie’s father had built back in the day on the small oxbow cove that ran beside the river itself. It really was a great place. But it just wasn’t the same as his office in Grimalde Tower. Nigel was nothing if not a creature of habit, so there was a lingering... discomfort... in being removed from Grimalde Tower, and from the hustle and bustle of downtown River City in general.

Discomfort. Like clothes that didn’t fit right. Like being jammed to the back of a crowded elevator. Like having a stubborn bit of food stuck in his back teeth. The Tower was both his home and his office, and he missed both, deeply. He chuckled to himself. Forget “First World Problems”; Nigel was experiencing “Problems of the Rich and Famous”. Still, he couldn’t get past it.

But what else was there to do? He had hoped to move the family back home as soon as they returned from visiting the convalescing Frasiers in Midas City, but it was not to be. The building engineers had claimed that they would need at least a month to check and recheck the building’s structural integrity in the wake of the bombing two weeks ago. They couldn’t possibly move back in before that. And that’s even assuming that the verdict would be positive, that the building could be saved, that they wouldn’t have to bring it down and rebuild from scratch. So here he sat, not really comfortable with the situation, but thankful nonetheless that he had someplace familiar to lay his head at night and to run his business during the day.

Even so, his discomfort was particularly pointed today. The prospect of what might happen in the next few hours—starting with the first meeting in just a few minutes—was making him so anxious that he thought he was going to be sick. He looked nervously at his watch, wishing that she would just hurry up and get here so they could get started, even though there were still two minutes left to go. He paced back and forth in front of that majestic river view, unable to enjoy it as he tried in vain to make the second hand to move faster by sheer force of will.

Finally she arrived. The whole room shone with an unearthly glow, and suddenly she was there. Nigel watched as Silver Girl gathered herself after that long teleportation. Clearly she was still not entirely comfortable with the full scope of her powers yet. At last she turned to Nigel and studied him warily.

“Silver Girl, I’m so glad to see you. I want to thank you for agreeing to meet me here—” Nigel began.

“I’m not doing this for you, Grimalde,” she snapped.

“Of course. I understand—”

“I doubt that. This is all about the young women you’ve brainwashed and turned into your personal playthings.” She sighed deeply, shaking her head. “I’m here for them. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here, because some people I actually DO trust vouched for you. But just because I’m willing to help you fix your past mistakes doesn’t mean I can simply turn a blind eye to what you’ve done.“

Nigel wanted to be humble about this. He wanted show his contrition, but now he was peeved. It was clear that any of that humility was wasted on the heroine. She wasn’t going to give him a chance unless he just asserted himself and took it.

“Fine. You’re never going to be president of my fan club. I get it. But as I was trying to say, I’m grateful to you for schlepping all the way out to River City, since that allows all this to happen in a familiar, comfortable environment for them. Thank you. Ever. So. Much.“

Sarah blinked, then sighed again rolling her eyes. “Okay. Maaaaybe I came on a bit strong just now. Sorry.” She shook her head. “I’m just in a lousy mood... haven’t been sleeping well lately. Better than I have in weeks, thanks to my two new house guests, but, well... nightmares and all that. Still, it’s unfair of me to take it out on you. I apologize, ’kay?”

Nigel nodded, walking back behind his desk. “Thank you, Ms. LaSilvas. That was very gracious of you. I accept your apology, and let me... ah... offer one of my own. I have heard how awful your life has been for the last year. I understand that you are recovering from injury every bit as serious as Eugene Frasier’s, even if it’s not as obvious as his. I honestly do not wish to harm or even inconvenience you. If there were any other way to do this, I would.”

He nodded. She nodded back. They understood each other, if not perfectly then at least well enough.

He turned and fingered the intercom. “Constance, is Angela there yet?”

“Yes sir,” piped Constance, “She’s right here with me.”

“Send her in please.”

The door opened and in breezed Angela Prentiss. “So, Nigel. What’s with all the cloak-and-dag—” Noticing they were not alone she froze in her tracks. “Oh, hello. I didn’t see anyone else come in. Um. Silver Girl, isn’t it?”

“Yep, that’s me,” Sarah replied wiggling her fingers at her. “Angela, right?” Sarah recalled the fact sheet Nigel had given her on Angela. Former Angel Girl/Avenging Angel/Sunshine Angel. I still don’t get how these magical gems, these ‘Tears’, work, but I guess the ‘former’ means she gave her Tear to someone else. What else? She looks waaaay too young for 52. I wonder how she does it? SVP of R&D? Thank goodness Eugene was around to help me translate that little bit of corp-speak. ‘Senior Vice President of Research and Development’, eh? Impressive title. Even being a brainwashed harem slave didn’t slow this one down much.

Meanwhile Angela had been staring right back at Sarah, doing some appraising of her own. “Um, riiiight, I’m Angela, " she said nervously, “So, ah, what’s going on here, Nigel?”

This wasn’t the way Nigel had thought these things would go originally. After Silver Girl had removed the brainwashing from his wife Patricia, she had been a bit...confused. Nigel had figured that it was because Patricia had not had any warning, so he had resolved to talk to all the other girls about what was going to happen before setting them free. But Patricia herself had nixed that idea outright.

“Nigel,” Patricia had said, “if you tell them you are going to set them free before you do it, they’re all going to freak out! It will be much worse than it was for me, and they’ll all be basket cases from the moment you tell them until the moment Silver Girl actually does the deed. I know that I reacted badly, but that’s because I thought that—you know, with all Silver Girl’s talk of me leaving you—that you didn’t love me anymore. It was just my crazy insecurity. It probably won’t happen to any of the other girls.”

So Nigel had agreed to let it be a surprise to all the rest. But looking at Angela now, watching her put two and two together, he wondered if this had been the right approach after all.

Angela was no fool. A former superheroine herself, she knew Silver Girl by reputation if nothing else. From the expression on the blond scientist’s face, she had indeed realized that Silver Girl was here to take away the mind control that bound her to Nigel. And she looked as if she were ready to turn tail and run to escape that fate.

“Angela, freeze,” said Nigel.

A loyal slave still, she did stop backing away, but she didn’t stop protesting. “Nigel, is... is she g-going to change me back? I...I don’t WANT to go back! I like who I am. I WANT to be your slave!“

Nigel didn’t know what to say to that. After all these years he still never knew what to say to that.

“It’s okay, Angie,” said Silver Girl, as she held up her hand and began to spark. “Really. You’ll see some glaring brightness in the place where your ideas come from, but it won’t hurt. Just relax. It will be over soon.”

Angela glanced wide-eyed at Sarah, then back at Nigel, his face pale and grim but determined. If not for his command—the first he’d given her in so long she couldn’t even remember—she really would have bolted. Oh God... why? What did I do wrong? I thought... I thought I made him happy! But... if this was what he wants..., she thought desperately, steeling herself, holding her tears in check as that strange glowing silver finger approached heedless. A simple touch. A stinging brightness...

For a moment she was back where it all had started for her. A young teenage girl chosen by Eagle Girl—No, Eagle Woman—to bear the Right Tear of the Valkyrie, to carry the mantle of great winged heroines like Free Bird, The Falcon, and even the war hero Lady Britannia. But the sun was so bright... and... and... just as suddenly as it had started...

It was over. Angela was silent as her world abruptly tilted on its axis before settling back down again.

Angela first became aware of Silver Girl’s voice, “If you need to get away from him, I can help. If you wanna talk about it...if you need support...” She saw Silver Girl shrug. “I know some people. Really. And if you wanna press charges... Well, I’m here for you in any way you need me... Angie, you’re gonna be okay—”

“The HELL I’m gonna be okay!” shouted Angela. “Nigel, why is she talking about taking me away?“

Then Angela froze again, a look of horror creeping across her face. Suddenly she dove headlong for Nigel and grabbed him around the ankles.

“OH GAWD!” she screamed, sobbing, “PLEASE, MASTER! PLEASE DON’T SEND ME AWAY! I’LL DO ANYTHING! ANYTHING AT ALL! PLEASE LET ME STAY!”

Nigel was shocked. Again. Angela and Patricia were so different from each other, and yet here she was, reacting exactly as Patricia had. Nigel had learned something since the last time though. He, at least, reacted somewhat better. He reached down and stroked her hair, speaking to her soothingly. He reassured her that he was NOT sending her away. He told her that he still loved her. He affirmed that nothing had to change about their relationship unless SHE wanted it to change.

Finally she calmed down, letting go of her death grip on his legs and settling for a more gentle hug around his waist, kneeling still while he stroked her soft blonde hair.

If Nigel was shocked by her reaction, Silver Girl was merely... sympathetic. She herself had been in a similar situation long ago, back in her Chronos days, so she could relate to what Angela was going through. Hell, she’d been in Nigel’s shoes too, so she could empathize just as well with him.

He’s taking a big chance in choosing to free them. I mean, he’s got no way of knowing if she would freak out and beat him up or anything. And there’s always the chance that she’d never want to see him again, that by giving her back her freedom he would lose her forever. She can even press charges if she wants! Kidnapping. Assault and battery. ‘White Slavery’. Gotta give the guy credit for his cohones at least.

After a long moment, Nigel remembered they were not alone, noticing Silver Girl staring pointedly at them. Now that the crisis with Angela was past, he knew that he had to say something.

Quietly, calmly, with infinite patience, Nigel addressed her, “My dear Ms. LaSilvas. I truly am grateful that you are here now, undoing the mistakes of my past that I once thought could never be fixed. Truly, deeply grateful. But, with all due respect, would you please stop scaring the living shit out of the women I love!?“

Sarah blinked. “Scaring them? Hey, look, Grimalde, I didn’t mean—”

“No, YOU look! You gave both of them the ‘battered woman’ speech, offering to ‘take them away’ somewhere safe, and look what happened right afterward. BOTH TIMES! Sarah, it’s NOT like that! All you’re doing is confusing them, and, yes, frightening them.” He sighed, taking a deep breath to steady himself again. “Please,” he said, calm again, “I’m begging you. Just... just lay off the melodramatics, okay?”

Embarrassed, properly chagrined, she had to admit that he had a point. She’d seen two of them now in the immediate aftermath of having their minds freed, and neither had behaved like an abuse victim. In fact, quite the contrary. And he was right about her too. There was no doubt that she really HAD been the one who had frightened both women. The Frasiers had both vouched for him after all, that he wasn’t a bad guy. And if he had been a monster, a beast, an ogre—the kind of man that these women needed to be protected from—they surely wouldn’t cling to him so strongly once they’d reclaimed their free will.

Maybe I should just stay out of the way, she mused thoughtfully. It couldn’t go any worse if I just let things play out naturally, could it? “Uh, yeah,” she replied, half-shrugging. “Okay, yeah. I agree. Let’s do it your way.“

Even so, she steeled herself to watch this scene play itself out four more times.

Larissa Jane Fredrickson watched the scene play out with increasing annoyance. She growled fiercely at the nurse standing between her and the hospital room door. While she hadn’t exactly expected to be welcomed into the hospital with all the gear she was lugging around, it wasn’t as if she was carrying guns or radioactive material. Besides, she was a doctor herself... not a medical doctor, but still, some professional courtesy wasn’t too much to ask! She’d come there to help her brother, after all. You would think the simpletons in charge would understand that much at least!

“For the last time,” Larissa growled, blue eyes flashing with anger, “move out of the way! I’m going in that room right now, if I have to go through you!”

“And I’m telling you,” the nurse replied heatedly, “unauthorized guests are not allowed in to visit patients! I don’t know how you got past the front desk with that... that... whatever it is strapped to your back,” she continued, gesturing to the huge overfilled backpack with large metal protrusions sticking out from it, “but I’m not letting you go any further. Back off now, or I’m calling security.“

Larissa groaned, shaking her head, reaching back into her backpack. Why couldn’t these stupid mundanes ever learn? Why did they always have to do it the hard way?

“Seriously? You’re going to make me go through this again?” Before the nurse could reply, she pulled out a small silver box, and pointed it at her. The Nurse froze, blinking rapidly, as the small series of lights on the box oscillated, flashing several different colors for a few seconds, until they all flashed pink. Nodding, she slipped the box back into its pouch, and gestured to the door.

“So, are you gonna move out of my way, now?” she asked pointedly.

Nurse Bonnie Hulbert nodding, smiling grandly. “Oh! Of, of course, ma’am! Please, excuse me!” she said, stepping aside, opening the door for her and holding it to let her enter. Larissa grumbled as she walked past the nurse. 3 guards, an over-curious orderly, and 2 nurses. All this blinkenlight MC crap was seriously depleting her battery reserves. She should still have plenty, but she was getting a little too close to the safety factor for her comfort. She absolutely could NOT afford to waste time recharging now.

The nurse continued, now cloyingly servile, “And, please, um... miss....”

“Machina,” she said with an evil grin. “Ms. Machina, if you please.”

“Yes, um, Ms. Machina,” the nurse continued fawningly—she was probably this much of a brown-nosing suck-up in real life too—“If you need anything—”

“I’ll be sure and ask someone less annoying,” Larissa scowled, shutting the door in the woman’s face. Sighing deeply, she briefly considered using one of her other devices, and going back to deal with the annoying woman in a more permanent manner. However, she remained aware of her surroundings, that she was in a public hospital, and that any pyrotechnics or loss of life would draw attention that she really didn’t want.

“Hi there, Lar. I knew the next person to visit would either be you come to fix me or the FBI come to drag me away. I’m glad it’s you,” Laraby James Fredrickson—known to a select few of the world’s most powerful crime bosses as “Sureshot”—said solemnly from his hospital bed, his badly burned body wrapped in a mass of bandages.

“Jesus,” replied his sister, “Lar... Are you alright?”

Having once again made absolutely sure that Angela was alright, Nigel called up Constance on the intercom again. “Could you please get Delores for me?”

“Sir, I think she is out at the pool with the kids.”

Looking out over the balcony into the pool area, Nigel could see that she was.

Dammit.

Justine and Robbie were both excellent swimmers, but Nigel and Patricia still wouldn’t allow them in the pool area unless an adult was with them. So Delores wouldn’t be able to come until he got someone to relieve her.

“Angela, could you—?”

“Could I what? Go play in the pool with two squirmy, giggling, adorable kids?” she asked softly, looking at him with an loving yet playful expression. “Gee. I don’t know. It’s such a chore.“

“Har-de-har-har, Prentiss.” Nigel said. His tone was annoyed but his face betrayed his delight. It was a good sign that Angela was recovering her normal cocky irreverence.

“And could you tell Delores I want to see her?” he added, “Oh, and send Constance in on your way out.” No sense in wasting Silver Girl’s time waiting. I think she’s actually kind of warming up to the situation, but... I dunno. She seems really... tired. Not surprising, really, since she was still recovering from her OWN harrowing experience. ‘Held captive and tortured for nearly two years,’ Eugene had said, right? Yeah. Superheroine or not, I should make this as easy for her as I can.

“Anything else, oh mighty poohbah?” smirked Angela, pulling Nigel back into the moment, “Maybe I could fetch you some coffee? Maybe I could rub your tootsies? Maybe you’d like a pony? Maybe two? You sure are throwing around a lot of orders at a gal that doesn’t have to obey them anymore.“

“Hey!” said Nigel, “Not to bring up a sore point, but weren’t you just groveling and crying at my feet for me to keep you?”

Suddenly she was serious again. “Nigel, when I thought you were abandoning me, I was scared to death. But you fixed that, you gave me the reassurance that I needed. I know now and forever that I’m secure in my place in your harem and in your heart.” Then with a twinkle in her eye the snark reemerged. “But that doesn’t mean you can boss me around anymore, Grimalde. After all, wasn’t that the point of all this?”

He smiled back at her and quipped, not unkindly, “Well, I AM still your employer, aren’t I?”

Angela let out a loud sigh as she opened the door. “I guess I’m just doomed to be your thrall. If I’m not a love slave, I’m a wage slave.“

Silver Girl merely chuckled, rolling her eyes. Sheesh. What was WITH these people?

Before the door could shut behind Angie, Constance Yamanohana was on her way in. Through the open door Nigel watched Constance and Angela exchange a “tag team” hand slap. In the past couple of months, Constance had shed much of her shy demeanor. She used to be so intimidated by the other women in Nigel’s harem, Tearbearers and former Tearbearers all, but now she seemed comfortable in her own skin.

How did Angela phrase it? She was ‘secure in her place’. Yeah, that was the difference. Constance was still a quiet person who preferred to stay in the background, but now it was more of a quiet confidence than a nervous silence, secure in her place in Nigel’s harem and in his heart.

Even now he could see the growth in her personality. She walked up to Silver Girl confidently, assuredly. Unlike with Patricia and Angela, there was no surprise on the young psychic’s face. She confirmed all that and more when she spoke up.

“Hi, Silver Girl. Look, I know why you’re here. I know exactly what’s about to happen. I even know what to expect. Can we just get on with it, please?”

Silver Girl blinked for a moment, taken aback by the smooth, pretty Asian girl walking straight towards her. “Um, so, ah, Constance, right? Well, Connie,” she began her explanation, “you’re going to see bright—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Short dream. Bright light. Yadda, yadda. I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

Sarah grinned despite herself. Huh. This one’s confident. I kind of like her spunk. And her OTHER assets aren’t too bad either. She licked her lips softly. First Patty, then Angie, now Connie? Grimalde has certainly cornered the market on hot, sexy women. Still, I wonder why she’s not nervous or anxious like the others... Then her eyes went wide. Ohhh shit... I just remembered! Constance Yamanohana... she’s psychic! No wonder she walked right over to me! Goddess... I wonder if she heard what I was thinking just now... Cheeks blushing a nice dark silver, Sarah coughed slightly to cover her embarrassment.

“Er... right,” she said gruffly, “Okay then. Um... here goes.”

Perhaps because she had discounted it, Connie’s fantasy was harder and wilder than any of the others’ had been...

Eugene Frasier stood before her desk wearing a tuxedo, saying “Are ye feeling well, Moneypenny? Ye look a bit peaked.”

Ooooo! thought Connie, This is even better than usual.

“I’m fine, James,” she replied, “But I’m not Moneypenny. I’m Whitefinger!”

In one fluid motion she pulled off her mask and wig, and shot him... with a glue-rope gun? What the hell? she thought, Meh. Just roll with it, Connie.

As the sticky tendrils wrapped over and over his helpless body, James Bond lost his balance and his famous cool. Falling to the floor he cried out, “Ach! No! Nae Whitefinger, Blackfinger’s infamous—and stunningly beautiful—assistant! What’s yer game, lass? Do ye expect me t’ talk?”

“No, Mr. Bond—” she gloated as a strong arm snaked around her waist. Soft lips caressed her long, sexy neck.

A small but very bright flame erupted between Bond’s ankles and slowly began creeping upward.

From somewhere behind her, Blackfinger finished the sentence his lovely and deadly apprentice had started, his hot breath tickling her ear, “—We expect you to die.”

The flame suddenly flared brighter than the sun...

And then the dream was over, but damned if it wasn’t the best “Bond Girl” daydream Connie had ever had.

She was only disoriented for a moment, and then she walked up to Nigel, slow and sultry, with lots of swing in her hips and lots of swagger in her step. As she reached him standing beside his desk, she reached behind herself and pulled her Glock out of its holster. She fingered the safety a couple of times, just to make Nigel nervous. Silver Girl gasped, instinctively gathering a bunch of sparks, preparing to unleash them at her, but Nigel motioned for the heroine to hold off.

Then Connie smiled coquettishly and laid the gun on his desk. Looking up at her erstwhile Master with big doe-eyes, she said, “Can I still do this?” Then she wrapped her arms around his neck and laid a scorching kiss on his lips, invading his mouth with her thrusting, questing tongue.

When, at last, she disengaged, nipping lightly at his lower lip, Nigel took a moment to compose himself and then whispered, “Any time you want.”

But she wasn’t done yet. “How about this then?” she asked, pressing against his body as she slid down. Soft, yielding breasts contrasting delightfully with hard, hard nipples. Knees at last touching the floor, kneeling. Hands unzipping his fly, freeing his now-rigid cock. Luscious lips caressing, and now consuming it.

“Oh Goddess,” said Silver Girl in shock, blushing again, and quickly turning away from them.

It took Nigel a while, but he finally had the presence of mind to respond to Connie.

“Yessss,” he hissed, trying for a light and breezy quip, but not quite succeeding, “Th-that too...bbbut...now...isn’t really...the best time.”

Nigel was still trying to figure out why Constance was suddenly in full-blown sex kitten mode. Then something mischievous in her eyes caught his attention.

«Constance» he thought at her, «Are we putting on a show for our one-woman audience?»

Her response was immediate and just as silent. «Of course, sir! She’s just a hair jealous of you for all the beautiful, willing women in your harem. That’s part of why she’s copping such an attitude toward you. I thought it would be fun to tweak her a bit. I wanted to show her exactly how willing ‘Nigel’s Girls’ really are!»

«Well,» he replied, «Let’s not push it too much. We don’t want to get on her bad side. We should wrap up now and save it for later, okay?»

«I guess,» she pouted telepathically, «If we have to...»

Connie pulled off from Nigel’s prick with an audible pop. She looked up at him coyly, lovingly, as she carefully put him away and zipped him up. Playing the sultry secretary to the hilt, she husked “Of course, Mr. Grimalde. We must maintain our professionalism, mustn’t we?“

He reached down and gently caressed her cheek. “Yes,” he responded, smiling, finally in full control of his faculties, “We must.”

At that moment Delores knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”

Nigel helped Constance to her feet and said, “We’ll finish this conversation... later?”

“Count on it,” she said, winking, turning, and strutting away, while Silver Girl looked on, slack-jawed. In his mind Nigel heard Connie telepathically sending him the brassy tones of the James Bond theme as he watched her depart.

As he watched her depart, he reflected again on his charmed life, How could I have been so lucky?

How could he have been so unlucky? Larissa wondered to herself.

Laraby’s sightless face seemed to watch Larissa approach him. She tried to imagine how he had gotten himself into this predicament. Most of the time he seems to lead a charmed life, but this time he really ran into a buzz saw. A flaming, ambulatory buzz saw. With laser beams attached to her head. How could he have been so unlucky?

Her shock at his burned, scarred, and heavily bandaged body was matched only by her shock at his maimed and blinded face, which, likewise, bore wrappings, including two large bandages covering his eyes.

Somehow though, her brother was calm, cool, and collected throughout it all. With an almost bored, tone of voice, he said, “I see you managed to make it past all this hospital’s petty little annoyances.”

God, how does he do it? she thought. Not to be outdone, she tried affect the same indifferent, disdainful attitude. “I spent a little more juice than I expected,” she said, “but nothing I couldn’t handle.“

“I... see,” said the blind man, “You sound annoyed. Did I put you out any? Did this come at a bad time?”

“I had a few projects going, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t put on hold for a few days. Geez, Lar,” she said with a frown, dropping the attitude for the moment, moving over to his bedside. “You look like shit. That kid must have really done a number on you.” She unbuckled her backpack, setting it down with a slight thump. “How bad is it? What did she do to you?”

“She took my arm,” he replied grimly, holding up the heavily bandaged stump, “and you know about the eyes already.”

“Hmph,” she grumbled, reaching into her backpack, retrieving a large round flat silver disk with a clear glass screen. “And they call US villains. It’s truly criminal what these costumed vigilantes can get away with these days.”

“Apparently my bullet hit her girlfriend. Ironic that she should blame ME for that, since it was her own power that deflected the bullet in the first place. But... yes... she was a bit... overwrought, even at that. Quite the little drama queen really. Very unstable. I can see why my sponsor wanted to get rid of her.”

Tapping a small switch on the side of the disk, she peered through the screen as the small but powerful device scanned his body. “Damn. Looks like the nerve endings at the edge of the stump are all dead.” Sighing, she began unwrapping the bandages. “Burned away, actually. Lar, that means I’ll have to go in deeper than I’d planned to make the connections.”

Laraby merely nodded. “I assumed as much. Just do what you have to, Lar.”

Larissa sighed again, wincing at the sight of the motley-colored, still healing flesh. “When I’m done, Lar, you better be ready to help cover our egress. I won’t have enough battery power to protect both our hides.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Lar.”

She was skeptical, but decided they could cross that bridge when they got to it. Digging back into her backpack, she removed a small but heavy metal tube, holding it up. She smiled slightly in pride; it had taken her the better part of a week to get it finished, but she was more than pleased with the end result. Flipping a small flap on the side, pushing down a pair off hidden switches, she held the tube up towards the edge of her brother’s arm. “You might want to prepare yourself, Lar,” she warned. “This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker.”

“That’s what the IV’s full of drugs are for,” he growled, steeling himself. “Just get on with it, Lar.”

“Right, Lar,” she replied, smiling, carefully pressing the tube up against his stump, depressing the first of the two switches. The tube shuddered slightly, then hissed as the edge of it... melted, flowing forward several inches before hardening again, neatly fusing with the man’s flesh.

Laraby merely grunted, holding his arm stock still, ignoring the telltale stink of burning flesh, letting his baby sister’s invention do its work.

Larissa nodded, checking the readings of the tube’s display. “Okay. Anchoring complete. Limb is fully anchored into the bone. Stage one complete.” She glanced at her brother, hesitating for a moment before shrugging. “All right. Here goes phase two,” she said, pressing the second switch. “Just make sure you don’t bite down on your own tongue.”

“Nnnnnggghhhhh! Good fucking LORD, Lar!” Laraby keened softly, shuddering, barely resisting the urge to scream as the tube suddenly sprouted thousands of tiny spikes. Each one dig deep into his arm, drilling through bone and muscle, seeking out and connecting to his nerve endings, and fusing them together. Teeth gritted tightly, free hand clenching into a fist, he shook his head back and forth, trying to deny the steadily building pain enveloping his body. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he screamed, giving voice to his agony.

“I’m sorry, Lar! The nerve endings have to be alive and active during the infusion process,” Larissa yelled back, checking her display, wincing in sympathy as each connection fused one by one, her counter filling slowly: sixty-five percent... sixty-eight... seventy-three... seventy-seven. “It’s going as fast as possible, Lar. Just a little longer. Hang in there...” Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine.... Why does every progress bar ever created by the mind of man seem to hang—tauntingly, teasingly, tantalizingly—over that last one percent? After a seeming eternity of pain, the display flashed all green, as the spikes contracted, descending back down into the tube. Finally, the tube itself twitched, unfolding, retracting, reforming into silvery metallic arm and hand, complete with fingers.

Laraby groaned loudly, collapsing back into the bed, his new arm dropping limply at his side. The pain had faded to a dull throbbing roar, and he was pretty sure he was going to need reconstructive dental surgery to fix his teeth. But for the first time in more than a week, he could feel something at the end of his arm. He made a fist, and the robotic arm responded perfectly, wiggling its fingers, waving, making a Vulcan salute, and even snapping its fingers—which produced an oddly metallic ringing sound—at his command. Shaking his head, he laughed, as loudly as he’d been screaming moments before.

“Amazing! It’s wonderful, Lar! It responds just like a real hand.”

“Glad you like it,” she said stiffly, slightly offended by the comment. “And you don’t have to sound so surprised. I mean, I AM only the leading robotics expert in the whole damn country, after all.”

Laraby chuckled. “Now, now, Lar. Don’t go getting your feathers ruffled. I very much appreciate your doing this for me. If I plan to go against that little glowworm laser-shooting bitch again, I need to be fully ‘armed’, if you catch my meaning.”

“Oh? You plan on going after her again?” Larissa smirked. “How’s that going to work exactly, hmm? Do you plan to sit in the bushes somewhere and shoot at every person that walks by hoping you hit her? You’re blind, Lar, in case you forgot that. I could have whipped up some high tech visual scanners to replace your damaged eyes, if you’d been willing to wait a few more days. As it is I have a makeshift—“

“That won’t be necessary, Lar,” he replied with a grin. Reaching out with his new arm, he picked up a napkin, rolled it into a small tight ball of paper. “You know the way a person’s other senses tend to increase to compensate for a sensory loss? And how a blind person’s hearing becomes razor sharp, or his sense of touch gets super sensitive?”

Larissa scowled. “Yeah? So? I still don’t see what that has—mmmmpphh!” As she talked, Laraby had tossed the small wad of paper behind his back, hitting the side of the IV pole, deflecting off it onto the heart monitor screen, and then tray table, bouncing directly into her open mouth. Spitting it out, she gaped at her brother who merely sat there smirking. “Wh... Ho... okay. How the FUCK did you do that, Lar?”

Calmly, Laraby reached up and began unwrapping the bandages around his face. “It’s like I was telling you earlier. A blind person’s other senses compensate for his missing sight.” The last of the wrappings fell away, and he slipped off the bandages, revealing a pair of white pupiless eyes.

“Well, my senses work a bit differently from the average person. When I target someone, I can sense their movements, ‘see them’ in my mind’s eye, or whatever. Before, it was like invisible lines of force running from me to the target... but now, it’s so much more than that. When I target someone now, I can ‘see’ them clearly, everything about them... their aura, their essence. When I targeted you just now, it was like you suddenly came into focus, like being in a pitch black room and someone suddenly turned a spot light on you.” He chuckled darkly. “The whiny little bitch actually did me a favor, Lar. In taking my sight, she gave me something much more useful.”

Larissa nodded dumbly, glancing to the side. “Okay. Fine. I get it. But you still look creepy as hell. If you plan on walking out of here, you’d better put on some dark sunglasses or something.” Removing a small cloth roll from her backpack, she unzipped it, revealing a fresh change of clothes. “Speaking of which, we’d better go. The Ardor Beam I used on the hospital staff to let me in here will wear off pretty soon.” Turning away while her brother got dressed, she mused. “So... this kid, this... ‘Luminaire’? You really planning to go after her again after the way she put you in here?”

The assassin chuckled ruefully. “Have you ever known me to back down from a challenge before?”

“Huh. Guess that answers my question then. Still, even with a new arm and new eyes, you’re pretty banged up. You should be in bed for at least a couple more days. And if you want to avoid a citywide manhunt, and get the chance to take down this girl, you’d better lay low for a while after that, until you’re back to a hundred percent again.”

Coughing slightly, Laraby nodded. Between the pain headache from the new arm and the painkillers in his system, he felt pretty damn lousy. “Agreed. But I think I’ll convalesce some place a bit more off the beaten track, less likely to arouse suspicion.” Sliding on a pair of cheap dark sunglasses, he grinned. “In the meantime, Lar, I have to thank you for making the trip out here for me. I know you don’t expect any pay off from a family member, but—”

“Oh, no, I expect to get paid alright, Lar,” she said with a smirk. “High end parts like the one strapped to your arm don’t come cheap you know. I have my overhead to think about. But, of course, I’ll give you the friends and family discount.”

“Of course,” Laraby commented drily. “You’re all heart. No matter. It’s a small price to pay.” Tying his boots, he stood up, fully dressed once more. “So, what’s next for you, Lar? Are you heading back to Los Angeles, back to your own little kingdom to finish those projects you mentioned earlier?”

“Oh, I’ll be heading out soon enough,” she said with a hidden smirk. “There’s no hurry after all. I’ll at least hang around to make sure your settled in, Lar, dear.” She smiled at him, though her thoughts were far from concern for her sibling. Or rather, I’ll stay long enough to pay a little visit to this mysterious ‘Luminaire’ girl of yours. I’m very interested in meeting someone you couldn’t kill, brother dear, someone you’re still completely obsessed over. She must be a special girl to have you so fixated. So... maybe I’ll just have to see if she’s special enough to be of use to me.

Sliding her huge heavy backpack back onto her shoulders, she added the thought: Worst case scenario, I will have one-upped you by taking out a target that the great Sureshot was unable to kill. Oh yeah... I can’t wait to meet this kid. I just hope she’s ready to meet me.

Delores Gutierrez was ready to meet him; she was always happy to spend time with Nigel, a rare luxury for her these days. She watched as Connie, the saucy psychic secretary, crossed in threshold in front of her to resume her post, the post Delores used to hold before her ‘promotion’. She and her former assistant exchanged a little finger-wiggling secret handshake that made Delores laugh out loud. The Latina turned to Nigel and favored him with an arched eyebrow and an amused smirk. Nigel shrugged and smiled back. Then Delores noticed Nigel’s guest.

“Oh, where are my manners! I’m Delores, Delores Gutierrez, Mr. Grimalde’s household manager,” she said, walking to Silver Girl with outstretched hands.

“Hi Delores,” replied the heroine, shaking her hand warmly, “I’m Silver Girl, Sarah LaSilvas.”

“Are you a local heroine then?” asked Delores, “I’m sorry but I’m afraid I haven’t heard of you.”

“So you don’t know who I am?” said Sarah, genuinely surprised. Sarah thought she was rather humble as superheroines go, but even so it was rare for her to encounter someone who didn’t know her. Especially someone like this, a former heroine herself, surrounded daily by other heroines, even connected as she were to the Frasiers. But no matter, Sarah ignored her own surprise and replied, “I’m, ah, from Midas City, and I’m here to—”

“Just a moment, please, Ms. LaSilvas!” interrupted Nigel, “Delores, this is an order: Freeze and be quiet!“

Having startled Delores by announcing that he was giving her her first actual orders in over a decade, Delores froze with a startled expression on her face and shushed herself with a nervous moan dying on her lips. But she obeyed her master, a testament to the power of the drug and the slave conditioning, even after more than two decades.

In fact, she was as still as a statue. Is she even breathing? wondered Nigel. OH SHIT! SHE’S NOT!

“Change of orders! BREATHE!” he said, “And you can look around... and move your head... and... and for god’s sake blink your eyes once in a while. But keep everything else frozen and don’t talk.”

As he saw his slave take a deep breath, Nigel breathed heavily a few times himself. This is why I stopped giving them orders! he thought, and this is why I’m setting them free.

“Delores,” continued Nigel, “Silver Girl has a number of powers related to mind control. Among those powers is the power to free brainwashed slaves from any form of control, no matter what. That is why she is here today. She is going to free you.”

Delores furrowed her brow and looked at him with a pained expression. Nigel paused to collect himself. However, in spite of this, when he spoke again his voice cracked with heavy emotion. “I wronged you all those years ago. And then I fell in love with you, with all of you. If I could, I would have freed you back then, whether you wanted it or not, but I thought it was impossible. When we were in Midas City, Eugene Frasier reminded me that his friend Silver Girl had these powers, that she could free you all. I’m sorry that it took me so long to free you. And I’m sorry that I can’t offer you a choice. But more than that—I’m sorry, more sorry than I can bear, that I enslaved you in the first place. Please forgive me Delores. For everything. I’m just... just trying to make things right.”

A tear ran down Delores’s cheek, but Nigel never saw it. He had already turned to Silver Girl, a weight lifted from his shoulders. “Ms. LaSilvas, ah, if you please.”

“Okay, Delores, you’ll see some intense brightness,” said the heroine, “In the place in your head where you imagine things. It’ll feel a little strange, but I promise it won’t hurt.” Delores only nodded mutely.

And then she was in lost in her own head, reliving one of the happiest times in her life...

She was sitting around the campfire with her friend, her mentor, her idol really, Ellen Hofstadter, better known to the public as the “Hippy Angel”, or, more officially “Free Bird”. Dee-Dee (aka “Eagle Girl”) was spending a relaxing evening with Ellen and Ellen’s husband Herb, enjoying the beautiful summer evening at the couple’s organic farm in the mountains east of River City.

It was like a different world to the LA-born-Latina, but “different good”, different like Heaven was different from Earth. Right now she and Ellen were singing some sort of folk or folk-rock tune that Ellen was expertly picking out on her guitar, while Herb concentrated on his own “labor of love”.

Sometimes the light’s all shinin’ on me-e-e-e

Other times I can barely see-e-e

Lately it occurs to me-e-e-e

What a lo-o-o-ong, strange trip it’s been!

Somewhere deep below the dream, the conscious part of Delores’s mind grinned at that. Oh, Ellen, you have NO idea how long and strange MY trip has been.

Back in the dream Ellen screwed up the next riff and stopped playing. The two heroines collapsed into giggles.

“Hey ’Erb,” said Ellen, “You about done ferkellin’ up that doobiage?”

Herb grinned at the oddly appropriate mispronunciation of his name. He pulled a smoldering kindling stick from the fire and used it as a magic wand, making a pass over his shadowed hand.

“You winged magic chicks aren’t the only fae folk in these woods tonight. Dig MY magic!” he said, as he drew down his fingers to reveal the perfect spliff that he had just finished rolling, “As lovely and bewitching as my lady faire.”

He touched the glowing tip of the kindling to one end of joint and took a huge hit off of the other end. Ellen reached over and sucked the smoke from his lungs by way of a deep kiss. He traded her the joint for the guitar.

“Are you sure I’m the metaphor you want to use, babe?” said Ellen, “It’s long and fat and hot and it fills me with pleasure. It reminds me more of you, loverboy.“

She took a long drag, making a show of fellating the joint while she filled her lungs. Herb just smiled and blew her a kiss. Then he turned to young Dee-Dee and gently picked at the instrument with his brawny farm-toughened fingers and... serenaded his wife’s friend.

Guinevere...had green eyes

Like yours, milady like yours

When she’d walk down

Through the garden

In the morning after it rained...

Dee-Dee felt the warmth of his gaze and of his voice, a clean, clear, almost-sad tone, singing now about peacocks and oranges. It wasn’t the words. It was the way he sang them. He wanted her. She felt her own heat rising from within, answering him.

Guinevere...flew on feathered wings

Like yours, milady like yours

Late at night

When she thought

That no one was watching at all

In the raw...

“You know,” Dee-Dee joked, “I think I’ve heard this one before. I don’t think that’s how it goes.”

“Shh,” Ellen whispered, “The man’s an artist. Let him create.”

She shall be free-e-e-e-e!

Dee-Dee felt the heat of her friend’s husband’s gaze. He was openly flirting with her. She was grinning and blushing like the naughty catholic schoolgirl she once had been.

“This is so wrong,” she said.

Ellen coughed as she let out her breath. She hadn’t seen Dee-Dee’s grin. And besides, when she was high she tended to look for any excuse to lecture.

“Wrong?” Ellen said irritably, “Baby, we’ve talked about ‘wrong’, haven’t we?”

“Yes, ‘Mom’,” Dee-Dee snarked back.

Sensing what was coming, Herb continued playing and humming to himself, his eyes never leaving the college girl sitting across from him.

“I’m serious, girl,” Ellen continued, “Are we hurting anybody that isn’t asking for it? Are we lying to anyone who deserves the truth? Are we being disloyal to our friends?”

“No,” said Delores, sullenly. Deep below the waking dream though, her conscious mind was stabbed by pain at her mentor’s words.

“Then we’re NOT doing anything ‘wrong’", Ellen concluded. Then she grinned. “I’m sharing my bounty with you freely, of my own free will, out of the love in my heart. Here,” she said warmly, holding out the doobie to her student, her friend, but also holding Herb’s shoulder, “take my gifts and be welcome. What could be ‘wrong’ with that?“

Dee-Dee did a double-take. ‘Gifts’? She can’t mean... No, there’s no doubt about it. She’s offering me both her weed AND her husband. Damn! Of course, it was getting more obvious all the time that Herb was offering himself too. Whether or not that offer was in collusion with his wife seemed... irrelevant. Especially when he sang the next verse.

Guinevere...had raven hair

Like yours, milady like yours

Streaming out

When she’d soar

On the thermals by the lake shore

Yearns for more...

Dee-Dee felt warm, and loved, and... and sexy. She put the cannabis to her lips. She inhaled deeply, accepting her friend’s gifts, all of them. As she held in the smoke, she stared past the glowing tip of the joint into Herb’s shining, entreating eyes, as the fire grew brighter and brighter and...

And the dream was over.

When Silver Girl was done Delores blinked her eyes. Then she began to sob, quietly, haltingly at first, but it was not long before she ramped up to a loud, long agonized wail.

Oh shit! thought Silver Girl, Maybe I gave Grimalde too much slack after all. Maybe he IS the abusive creep that I first thought he was, in spite of that little speech. This is more than just fear of being separated from her Master. This is something deeper, something darker! Her fingers twitched, and she hesitated, not sure how to act. Normally, she’d use a few sparks to calm the poor distraught woman down, maybe a spark-laced kiss to drown away the pain in bliss, though in her current state she doubted Delores would appreciate her ‘help’. Worse, if the poor distraught woman got so worked up she actually attacked Nigel, Sarah might have to intervene.

Trembling with rage and pain, Delores slowly walked up to Nigel. In utter agony she sobbed, “I’ve waited to deal with this for twenty years, Nigel Grimalde. TWENTY FUCKING YEARS!” Raring back and really putting some umph into it, she slapped Nigel hard across the face. “YOU RAT BASTARD! You made me lie for you. You made me hurt people. YOU MADE ME BETRAY MY FRIENDS!”

Silver Girl braced herself to intervene in case Grimalde fought back, but to her relief, he showed no sign of responding at all.

“I know, baby,” he said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

He opened his arms, and she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing his ribs, burying her head into his chest, and crying helplessly. He rubbed her back and held her head.

She continued as best she could, punctuating every few words with moans and sobs, “You told me...not to think...about it...not to...talk about it...the guilt...the shame...it’s been...bouncing around in...my head...for twenty years!...I’m so fucked up...Nigel, please...you gotta help me...I’m so...fucked up!”

“Anything at all, baby,” he said, holding her gently, lightly kissing the top of her head, “Just name it and it’s yours. Just tell me what you need and you’ll have it. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

She nodded, head still buried in his chest, tears soaking his shirt and tie, arms clutching desperately at his back.

Sarah sighed softly, a small smile creasing her lips. Damn! Despite everything she’s been going through, she still loves the bastard too! Maybe even more than any of the others. This is just too fuckin’ crazy! Turning away, she decided to give the two of them a moment alone. And when they were settled, when things had calmed down, then she would again give Delores her offer for help. Perhaps Mystic could talk with her. She’s been helping me deal with my own trauma issues. Speaking of which... once I’m done here, I need to go by for my own weekly check-up before I head back home...