The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Magical Girl Syn

Chapter Thirteen

by Jennifer Kohl

The first clue Lisa had of anything out of the ordinary happening was when her study partner, Terrence, pointed out the library window. “What is that?” he asked.

Lisa sighed, pushed her glasses up her nose, and put down her chemistry book. She turned to look out the window behind her, ready to dismiss whatever it was as unimportant compared to keeping up with their intensive summer class, but even she had to admit that the sight which greeted her was pretty strange: the unnaturally pale figure of a woman, with a winged head and clawed feet, soaring up into the sky above the campus.

“The hell..?” she asked. And then she heard it. Faint, distant music, an eerily beautiful song full of longing and of need. It was right on the edge of hearing, forcing her to strain her ears to catch it, but just loud enough to provoke curiosity. She could almost make out the words of the song, and she knew they had to be as heartbreakingly beautiful as the emotions behind them.

She stood and leaned forward a little, tilting her head first to one side, then the other, trying to catch the music. She closed her eyes to minimize distractions, because the view of the strange figure through the window was very distracting...

Wait, what am I doing? she thought. Why am I paying attention to music when that... that thing is out there? She opened her eyes to look at it again. The sharp claws on its legs caught her eyes—but then she looked higher, and saw that its mouth was open. It’s singing, she thought. That song is coming from it. She focused on the song again, but it was still so faint.

She turned, took a step, trying to find a position where she could hear it more clearly. It was so beautiful, so fascinating, so strange. She had to make sense of it, had to understand it, and then she would understand the strange creature. She took another step, and another.

Oh, she thought, a half-remembered bit of mythology coming to mind. It’s a siren. Cartoons and such had always shown them as mermaids, but Lisa recalled studying Homer in freshman lit, and the teacher saying the original Greek myths had been bird-women. Bird-women who sang alluring songs to draw their prey toward them, and then killed them.

Yet somehow that fact seemed strangely unimportant at that moment. It was just a distant, nagging memory, a distraction from the beautiful song. It was annoying, actually, because it made it harder to focus, harder to try to figure out the meaning of the song, harder to let herself drown in the feelings it brought her.

By the time she walked out of the library, Lisa was barely aware enough to note the change in her surroundings. The song was much louder and clearer out here, which was what mattered. If she could just figure it out...

Suddenly the creature swooped down toward Lisa. She gasped as the music enfolded her in sound and beauty, and she understood at last: there was nothing to understand. There was no sense to be made of the song; there was only the emotions of it, the pure sensation.

She was flying. Dimly she realized the creature had picked her up off the ground; dimly she was aware of its lips meeting hers. Its song was inside her now, pouring down her throat, echoing through her body and mind, filling her with wild, joyous agony. She was burning, melting, transforming, shuddering with orgasm after orgasm, every cell of her body exploding. Something dark and terrible and ecstatic and wonderful was slipping inside of her, coiling up in her belly, filling up behind her eyes.

Then she was on the ground, lying in the grass at the center of an expanding crowd, all eyes locked rapturously on the singing, soaring siren. It swooped low to grab another.

And then it exploded, and the song stopped.

* * *

Carice watched through the window, safe behind her Master’s protective barrier, as the siren claimed its first victim. She smiled in satisfaction, watching his plan unfold—but then the siren vanished in a burst of light, and her smile vanished with it. He did not strike her as the kind of man who took failure well, or who was particularly prone to blaming himself for it. More likely he would blame whatever servants were nearest—and that sinking feeling in her gut was a reminder that that very probably meant his new apprentice was about to receive the brunt of his displeasure.

Sure enough, it was only a moment before he popped into existence behind her. Immediately she turned and knelt, eyes downcast, hoping the overt display of submission would mollify him. “Master—” she began.

“Hush,” he said, and she quailed. “This was an acceptable beginning.”

“Master?” she said uncertainly, and risked looking up at him. His expression was calm, with none of the rage she’d expected.

He smiled down at her and gave her a pat on the head. “You have much to learn, child. The Beasts whom I summon are avatars of the primordial Chaos from which the world was made. Though most of its power is now locked away in the form of matter, what remains is still vast, and each Beast bears a piece of that power. With each Beast slain, fewer remain to divide it, which means..?” He looked down at her, waiting for her answer.

“Every time one dies, all the others get stronger?” Carice hazarded.

“Precisely,” Feiticeiro responded. “And that siren is the one hundred and sixth the Magical Girls have faced over the centuries. One hundred and five previous Beasts have been slain, and all their power divided by the few that remain. Do you really think a single attack from a neophyte magical girl could destroy it?”

“It’s not dead,” Carice said, understanding dawning. “Which means—”

“Which means that a quick strike from across campus won’t be enough. It will draw her out again, and it will take her time and effort to defeat it. Time, effort—and magic, magic enough for me to find her at last.”

“And then?” asked Carice.

Feiticeiro stepped closer. He reached down for her bare breast and began to fondle it, stroking and squeezing. Carice gasped as pleasure filled her, first her eyes rolling back and then her head, as her back arched, pressing her breast more firmly into his hand.

“Do not think,” said Feiticeiro, “that you will be privy to all my secrets. I will teach you, yes, and allow you more freedom than most of my slaves, because that is how you can be most useful to me. But you are still mine, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Carice moaned.

“Good girl. Now I’m going back to city hall. The police have drones they can put over the campus, to watch for my quarry. When she emerges, I may call upon you to assist in containing her. Until then, practice the rites I have shown you.”

Then he vanished.

Yes, Master, Carice thought. I’m yours... until I learn enough not to be...

* * *

Lisa struggled to focus on her chemistry. The problem was not, as one might expect, the strange experience she had just had. She was aware that it perhaps should have been, but like everyone else who had heard the song, she knew it wasn’t worth thinking about. That in itself was vaguely worrisome, but she knew those worries weren’t important, either.

No. The problem was simpler than that, at least in theory: Lisa was horny.

Normally that wouldn’t be an issue. She had her old friend Big Buzzy in her underwear drawer and a number of A03 bookmarks specifically for this kind of situation. Unfortunately, at the moment Big Buzzy and her laptop were in her dorm room across campus, while she was stuck here in the library with Terrence, cramming for their summer chemistry course.

Hmm, Terrence. Now there was a thought. She eyed him over the top of her book. He was tall, wiry, with an easy grin and nice hair. She could do a lot worse.

She shook her head. It was absurd. Sure, she could do worse, but surely Terrence could do better? Lisa knew she wasn’t exactly a head-turner. It just had never seemed worth the effort.

Until now.

“Uh, Lisa?” Terrence said quietly, blushing a little.

Realizing she’d been staring, Lisa shook herself. “Sorry,” she said. “Mind wandering.”

“Oh,” said Terrence. “Heh. Yeah.”

Silence hung between them for a moment.

“You’re, um. You’re still staring at me,” said Terrence.

Lisa smiled distantly. “Guess my mind’s not really on chemistry.”

“Oh. Um... you want to take a break?”

I dunno, thought Lisa. You wanna fuck? It took a moment, and Terrence’s shocked face, for her to realize she’d just said that out loud.

“Uh,” he sputtered. “That’s—I—you—”

“Never mind,” she said hastily, gathering up her books as her face grew hot. “That was stupid.”

“No, I—”

“It’s fine,” she said again. “I get it.“

“It’s just—I never thought of you that way—” Terrence began, and Lisa cut him off with a bitter laugh.

“Of course you didn’t! No one does. Why would they? Nerdy, mousy little Lisa.” She stalked around the table, dropping her books again as she stood over him. “Nobody thinks of her that way. Nobody shouts her name when they’re touching themselves at night.“

Terrence shrank under Lisa’s gaze, reduced to sputtered incoherence as she slid into his lap. “Maybe they should start,” she said, and kissed him.

Terrence hesitated only a moment, but the kiss felt good. He could feel how much she wanted it, how much desire she was pouring into it, and being wanted that much felt even better. Soon he was returning her kiss with nearly as much desire.

When they finally broke, Lisa gazed down at him wild-eyed and grinning, panting for breath. She squirmed eagerly in his lap, feeling his hardening cock pressing up into her. “I think maybe you will now,” she murmured, before kissing him again.

As they kissed, he ran his hands up her pale stomach, under her t-shirt, finally finding her breasts—small, but not as small as he’d assumed. Lisa gasped against his mouth at the touch, her happy squirming growing even more eager.

Within a few minutes, she was lying on her back on the table, naked, while Terrence lined himself up to enter her. This isn’t me, she thought, feeling that hot darkness squirming inside her. This is... something else... But it felt so good to let it take charge, to let it pull her along. She closed her eyes, wrapped her legs around Terrence’s hips, her arms around his shoulders, and met him thrust-for-thrust.

She wanted him, and he was giving himself to her. That was what was important. That and the sheer bliss she felt as the darkness flowed through their connection, and filled him with its song as well. Not even the pounding headache that flared suddenly in her temples could compare to that.

It would be hours before she noticed the nubs forming on either side of her head.

* * *

Across town from the university, Ruthie sat, bored, in a plush waiting room. She couldn’t hear what was being said on the other side of the door, nor did she entirely understand why Meghan had brought her to the Mayor’s office, of all places. Something about all this felt off—the slightly vacant smile of the receptionist, the quiet, the fact that a reporter just a few years older than Ruthie herself could get in to see the Mayor on a moment’s notice.

Then a smartly dressed, vaguely familiar woman walked in. She gave Ruthie an odd look before turning to talk quietly to the receptionist. Then she walked past Ruthie and through the heavy wooden door of the Mayor’s office. Ruthie heard just a second of raised voices, one male and unfamiliar, the other female and probably Meghan, before the closing door cut them off.

That was when it clicked. She’d done a report on the city elections for her Civics class the year before, and that was where she’d seen the woman: Janelle Lumley. The Mayor.

So who was the man in her office?

Ruthie’s bad feeling was getting worse. Something deeply strange was going on here—and she’d wandered right into the middle of it.

* * *