The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

This story has been available on my website for some time. I am making it available here on request.

* * *

Master of the Mind

Chapter 1

I knew this would happen.

The paramedics wrap me up in a blanket and ease me into the back of the ambulance. I feel fine, but I don’t tell them, my eyes transfixed by the desolation on the tarmac. The plane has broken apart, lost a wing, and burst into flames. I don’t even want to think about all the mangled bodies inside. My body’s shaking. A routine Baltimore/Las Vegas flight turned into Hell on Earth, and I’m standing here, eyes darting all over the gruesome sight of a national disaster. Am I dreaming? I feel like I must be dead, like there is no fucking way I survived this. Especially not without a single friggin’ injury. I feel hyper. Too hyper. I’m no pansy, but I can’t pretend I can be okay after that.

So I let the paramedics move me around like a trauma victim. I can let myself be pampered for once. Besides, I’ve got a lot of things to think about. Chief among them being, why did I board that plane when I knew, KNEW this would fucking happen?

“Hey, Clarice! We must stay together!” Chris says inside my mind.

I look at him. The hot bastard sits in another ambulance thirty meters away. Debbie clings to him, her light blue eyes looking dazed and confused. I can relate...I can only think of nodding and giving him the peace sign before my ambulance’s doors close. We’ll stay together later if you don’t mind, you selfish prick. I’ve got worse problems.

Seriously, I remember knowing—with absolute certainty—that the plane was going to crash, right before I boarded it. So why did I choose to ignore it?

Maybe I should step back a bit.

* * *

I know it sounds like bullshit, but I’ve got psychic powers. And no, I haven’t seen anyone fly around recently. I’m not exploding brains, either, I can just predict the future somewhat. It happens with a hunch, a vision of an event. Then my mind focusing on the environment, and watching all the little factors fall into place until, holy shit, I know why it’s totally going to happen. Want an example?

Okay, let’s say I foresee someone falling in ten seconds. My mind goes into hyperdrive and I realize his phone’s doing that twitter tune and there’s a thin patch of ice on the pavement in front of him. He’s going to check, lose track of where he is, and be surprised by the slippery ground.

Sometimes, it’s the other way around. More like a vague sense of foreboding, like no simple chain reaction is going to result in bad stuff, but there are street lights not working, a car with a crushed headlight, or that guy waiting to cross is looking a bit sickly. No surefire end event, but there’s definitely a recipe for disaster.

Simple, yeah? It’s always little things like that. So honestly, I think it’s just be a useful brand of mental illness. Like overshooting the OCD station and going to precog land. Nothing actually pseudo-scientific, just a weird phenomenon well worth studying.

At the University of Baltimore, there were two other people like that—Chris and Deborah. Chris is one of those suave bastards the dumb floozies of the world can’t help but throw their panties at. He describes himself as a “pusher” or “coercer”, which really just means he’s really fucking persuasive. Debbie, meanwhile, has a knack for predicting object movement. She’s fucking ridiculous at darts and carries a coin wherever she goes, to show off she can control the outcome of a toss. Which is a bit weird because she’s no show-off at all.

...And, huh, I like to gloss over that shit but sometimes those two go way beyond my reasonable scientific explanations. Debbie actually showed me she could move small objects with her mind at the cost of great concentration...And Chris can project his thoughts. Which is why I heard him through the chaos back at the crash site. Honestly, I know those things are borderline impossible to fake, but I just can’t help but think they’re bullshitting somehow. Like they want to win over the only part of the Baltimore psychic club who still believes in science. Even if it costs them experimental tech.

Some frictions aside, we three kind of converged together over the years. And we managed not to fuck even once. I know Debbie is as sexually attracted to that handsome dick as I am. Goes to show a woman doesn’t automatically have who she wants after all. Checkmate, misogynist shitlords.

Anyway, we decided to join a grad student program in Experimental Psychology in Vegas. There were other schools, but let’s be fucking honest—if you were poised to improve on some extraordinary talent, you’d choose Vegas too. So we get ready to board the plane...and my fringe psychology alarm system goes haywire. Like, stronger than ever before by two magnitudes. And...I still went in. What the fuck? Honestly, what the fucking fuck? It’s not like I had stupid bimbo syndrome. That plane was going to crash. Why did I ignore it?

Come on, think...

I...suppose I found it weird my senses couldn’t latch on any visible reason for the prediction. I always have some sort of proof my visions are realistically going to happen. Nothing like that there. Just a big, nebulous “Everything is going to be fire, get the fuck out”. Maybe I dismissed it as not being the real article? I don’t know, memory’s fuzzy.

Hey, since I’m on the subject...What went wrong up there?

* * *

Three hours later, and I’m lying on a hospital bed. I’m fine. Better than fine, I feel great now that the nightmare at ground zero isn’t right in front of me. Oh, I expect it to show up in my dreams, I mean, all those fucking people oh my G...Aaah...But it’s not here now. And I can think clearly enough to be sure of one thing.

I’ve got no idea what happened in the plane. I remember boarding it, taking my seat across the aisle from Debbie and Chris -and feeling a twinge of jealousy despite the bastard dumping his bimbo girlfriend right on the fucking tarmac, Jesus- and falling asleep. I fucking fell asleep despite knowing the plane was going to crash. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

I’d better get some sleep and check if I didn’t somehow become a bimbo in the morning.

* * *

The old guy beside me isn’t moving. His mouth is agape and his eyes open but he isn’t moving. Oh my fucking God is he dead?

“AaaAAAaah yes Chris fuck me harder yeeeEEEeess...”

What the...oh hell no. Chris is fucking Debbie. Debbie who confessed she was willing to bleach her hair if it could get his attention. She’s my friend, but seriously, she can be a shame for women sometimes. We need to make him grow out of his teenage alpha male shit, not pander to it! I mean, I’m sure he’d be a great guy if there weren’t so many sluts enabling his asshat habits.

But seriously, is the guy beside me dead? He is. Shit. We’ve got a dead man on the plane and Debbie is fucking the guy I want. What a great day. I should report it but the flight attendant is lying on the floor. The elderly woman behind Chris and Debbie isn’t looking too hot either.

...My premonition was right, wasn’t it?

* * *

I wake up covered in sweat. What was that? It must have been a nightmare...I mean, why would people die before the plane even crashes? And Chris couldn’t have made love with Debbie, she’s the diametrical opposite of his type for fuck’s sake!

Still...Try as I might, I just can’t remember it differently. This depressing scene is all I remember from this damn flight, and I can’t even be sure if it’s right. I hope they have some awesome detectives on this because I’m going to be one hell of a shitty witness.

I sigh and sit up. Haven’t been in a hospital room since I’ve got my wisdom teeth removed. Except I don’t feel like crap this time...If anything, I feel a bit too awake. I’m a legit trauma victim and I feel great. Fuck’s sake, Clarice...Bah, at least I can try and make another effort to actually remember what happened back there. I mean it must be somewh...

My thought process is cut off. I’m having a vision. Although...usually I feel a little jolt, but here, I felt like I’ve been shoved. What the hell?

I see a man in a doctor getup standing beside me. Hm, yeah, I suppose I am due for a check-up. Plus he’s kinda cute. Not a solid 10 like Chris but still, at least 9. He has just finished auscultating me—I can still feel the stethoscope’s coldness. I really want to ask a question even though I fear the answer. But I know I have to ask it.

“Say, they even have a theory on what happened? I don’t remember anything...”

“Well...nothing official but they’re pretty sure all those people died before the crash and without a struggle.”

And I feel a shiver down my spine.

“That’s why we analyzed your blood.” Continues the doctor. See if there’s any evidence of a toxic gas leak or anything like that. But like I’re clean.”

“O...okay...Can I go now?”

“Sure! I don’t know how you did it’re healthy as can be. Chalk it up to miracle I guess.”


And the vision ends. What the hell? It was so...real. My visions are blurry glimpses into possible outcomes. This lasted a while and was crystal clear...Like I was there. And I don’t have premonitions about conversations...I just don’t.

But as I sit there, confused at the bizarrely precise vision, I hear footsteps in the hallway. Oh shit, don’t tell me...

The handsome doctor knocks on the door and smiles.

“Miss Clarice Stewart?”


“I’m Doctor Pavel. How are you feeling?”

“Better than I should.”

“...That’s a good thing.”

He smiles again and walks up to me. I’ve never seen him before in my life. There is no possible way my brain could have predicted this meeting. I’m not the Oracle, dammit, I just predict accident based on what I I?

“Ahem, anyway...we ran some blood analysis’re clean. As are the other two survivors.”

“Ah, good...Have they been discharged already? They’re my friends, see.”

“Oh! I wasn’t informed. Yes, they’ve been cleared. Let me run a quick check-up and you can be on your way too. Pull your shirt up, please?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I let him put the stethoscope on my bare skin, doing my best to calm down. I’m freaking out here. I survived a crash and I had a vision clearer than ever before on something I could never do. What is this, comics? If I ask this question, will he seriously answer the exact same way? Would I get a free spandex suit?

...Could we three have anything to do with the crash?

Somehow, this nuclear bomb of a thought doesn’t get my heart racing enough to freak out Dr. Pavel here. He’s finished, and seems satisfied. This is. The moment I foresaw. I have to ask it. I have to know if I’m an anomaly of science.

“Say, they even have a theory on what happened? I don’t remember anything...”

He shrugs.

“Well...nothing official but they’re pretty sure all those people died before the crash and without a struggle.”


* * *

I walk the hospital’s hallways in a daze. This is crazy. Every scientific explanation I ever came up with to has flown through the window. I have gained legit supernatural powers, and the others probably have, too. Which explains the thought projection, Debbie’s most intense abilities...

And as much as I hate to even consider probably explains the damn crash.

I mean, us going full DC and an entire plane dying in mid flight can’t possibly be unrelated. How, I have no idea. I hope the others remember something other than having sex. Ugh. I had to think about that again, didn’t I? Anyway, I should contact them. Let’s text Debbie.

“Just been discharged. You OK? Where can we meet up?”

The answer comes before I even get to the stairs.

“Hi Clari, it’s Chris, Debbi is pretty shaken up. We’re in the lobby, next to the elevators.”

“OK, coming.”

A bit annoyed by the idea of Chris and Debbie together, I quicken my descent to the ground floor. Then suddenly, I’m already there.

Chris is hugging Debbie. She looks borderline brain dead, holy shit how could the hospital have discharged her? I run to her.

“Hey, Debbie! You alright?”


“I’m sorry, she’s been like this ever since she woke up.”

“Goddamit...Hey, wanna tell me what the fuck happened up there?”

“Sure, here, let me bring those memories up...”

The handsome douche extends his hand. I reflexively take a step back, but he chuckles.

“Bah, it’s not like I need direct contact anymore.”

Something wraps itself around my mind. My hands shake. Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit. He’s doing something to me. I panic, try to shake him off, but this is nothing like his usual gentle push. My brain is putty. I feel him squashing my fear and flooding me with dopamine. goood...Chris gives me some stars and ponies to think about while he destroys everything that makes me a bad girl. Yeeeesss...Good girl, Clari, let your mind be as wet and moist as your pussy. Gives us your power...

“Follow me, Clari.”

“Yesh Mashter...” I answer, drool trickling down my chin.

I stop dead in my tracks.

Holy. Freaking. Shit.

I turn around and run for my life. I can still feel Chris in my mind. He’s become so strong, even a premonition of him is fucking me up. I stumble and hit my kneecap on the concrete.


Fear. Pain. Danger. The doomed flight is coming back to me. That bastard is fucking Debbie. A shockwave. The flight attendant falls down on the floor. The plane starts wobbling and I shudder. I should be afraid, even in half-sleep I’m pretty twitchy. But I feel awesome. There’s hundreds of thoughts in my mind at once and it feels great. The alarm goes off. I don’t care.

“Fuck fuck goddammit it was us. It was us.”

We killed the passengers and the pilots and absorbed them somehow. It’s our fault. We wanted to understand and live off our powers and we killed everyone and Chris is a fucking supervillain now. He killed Debbie’s mind. Now he’s after me.

I run to the staff-only area and follow the signs to the emergency exit. Two orderlies see me and yell at me, but they don’t go after me. Then it happens again because that was a premonition. I’m so fucking scared oh my God. I see a big guy who manages to wrestle me to the ground. I take an alternate route and avoid him. I make it to the exit but I keep going.

Dead people. Drool on my chin. Follow me, Clari. I’m not Clari, you bastard. I run into traffic. Into people. It barely registers. I can only think of running.