The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Kanye?” Jackie guessed.

“No, Mikala,” the other girl said sarcastically, turning around with a jangle of hoop earrings and a smile on her bright pink lips. “Well, you sure ain’t from around here if you’re wearing a blouse. So what brings you to Atlantic Coast?”

“Good math program, getting away from Mom, and beautiful Miami. Not South Beach, just Miami,” Jackie said.

“Good, you’re not here for the Asshole Country Club. Don’t get me wrong, that shit pays for my financial aid. Ha, let them pay their way in and prance around in ho clothes—four years a must, learning anything optional.”

“Asshole Country Club? C’mon, my dad works in a warehouse. Yeah, half my ride’s scholarship money, but the other half is in loans, and high interest ones at that. No free rides here.”

“Yeah, you aren’t hidden behind a safe,” Mikala said with a smile.

“Okay, one of my friends is there. Used loosely. Very loosely. Looser than she is, if you know what I mean. She wanted me to join the dance team, but I told her no thanks.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’d fit in on the dance team,” Mikala said.

Jackie recognized the snide tone in her voice as one she’d used herself when she wanted someone to think they’d been insulted but not be completely sure; the lingering paranoia could be worse than anything she could say. “I’ll take that as a compliment from someone who knows,” she said in a similar tone.

Much to Jackie’s surprise, something in Mikala’s demeanor relaxed. To the loud and driving beat of Mikala’s stereo, the two girls unpacked in peace, occasionally tossing compliments at each other’s clothes.

“Well, let me tell you! Some dumb hussy thought I ought to be a cheerleader. Me! Now, I know the good Lord wanted to make sure my kids were well fed, but I don’t wear no dresses, not even to church—ooooh, the fits my mama would throw!” Carlene drawled when Jackie tracked her down in the cafeteria. “Kinda like you, the school put me right in front of that doorway that looks like the door at Fort Knox. And she wouldn’t even bring herself to go to my room. She just stayed in her circle and headed on back to hussy-land after going all Honest Van the Used Car Man on me ’bout how awesome it was.”

“Yeah, I hear they pick who they want to join. Glad you said no, though. I like you two—not your normal Assholes. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Anyone from Miami knows that there are two kinds of people at Atlantic Coast: the students here to learn and the Assholes just paying for a god time in the center halls. You go through that door, you don’t come back except as another member of the Asshole Country Club. Most of the rest of it is horror movie bullshit, but I’m glad you two whi—ah, privileged girls preferred not to get by on your looks,” Mikala said. Much to Jackie’s surprise, Mikala and Carlene were getting on like a house on fire.

They chatted for a while, exchanging rumors and gossip about Jameson and Hyatt Halls—Carlene’s roommate was a local kid whose dad had gone to Atlantic Coast, so she had a whole new set of stories to share. Then Jackie saw trouble coming as Neve approached their table. “How close to the doorway did they put you?” she said without preamble.

“Right across from it,” Carlene said with a shrug.

“Yeah, she’s right downstairs from us, so we can’t get too wild,” Mikala added with a smirk.

Jackie flinched, knowing what was coming. Sure enough, Neve looked the three of them up and down and pronounced, “You’d look good in next to nothing. Survive the first semester and they’ll go away.”

With that, she stalked off, leaving Mikala and Carlene to stare at Jackie for a moment. “She flew through Indy, of course. I had to deal with her. She’s not fully a resident of Planet Earth,” Jackie explained.

“Bet she watches nothing but spiral films for fun. Trust, the stories about Jameson and Hyatt have inspired at least three of them. We ain’t sure if the Ho Garden is because no one is actually admitting to watching that stuff,” Mikala said dismissively.

“And you got your Greek halls and your athlete halls everywhere. Ain’t that big of a deal. At least here they flat out admit the athletes get better treatment,” Carlene added.

“That’s the truth,” Jackie said. Mikala nodded her agreement.

The three of them toasted their friendship and headed back to the dorms.

Classes started and were classes, though Jackie had to get used to the scale of the giant lecture halls for many of her freshman courses. She liked most of her professors and found the coursework fairly easy to adjust to. But she noticed what Beth had mentioned about the “cool kids”: no one went near them, and in some of the higher-level classes with sophomores and juniors, they would even leave a row of chairs between them and the “cool kids”.

Not that she could blame them. The kids from Jameson and Hyatt seemed very conceited. Not a single one of them smiled at anything or anyone except each other. They only paid attention to a professor who directly called on them or an attractive TA. None of the girls would be seen in a shoe less than three inches high or a skirt more than six inches long. The boys were neatly pressed and pretty enough, but the only thing they could pay attention to for more than three seconds was T&A. More than once she’d had to give the middle finger at a boorish comment. During the second week, she got out her emery board and began honing her claws when one of the boys’ phones wandered low towards her crotch. The girls just giggled and the boys slapped each other in the head playfully. The boys’ pickup lines after class were painful; the only thing more painful was watching their female counterparts melt over them.

The next day, when she headed into her calc class, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She turned around and smiled when she recognized Laura. The red and blue highlights in her jet black hair were new, but the black Ramones shirt and black jeans were familiar. “Hey!”

“Hiya. Jackie, right? Settling in okay?” Laura asked.

“Yeah, it’s been great. C’mon, sit with me,” Jackie urged, and Laura sat down. Jackie went on, “My roommate’s nice—well, at least we get along and have a similar mindset. I’ve even made a few friends and learned to avoid the wild boors. One of the girls from my school is in Jameson, and did she ever try to recruit me! But I’m happy where I am.”

“Really? Wow. Somehow I got into Jameson myself, rushing Zeta. It’s nice there—they spoil us rotten, but that’s about it. No ghost stories, nothing weird—not even the rumor about the gilded walls is true. Not that much different. Sorry to disappoint you. If you wanna hang out there, I’ll give you a passcode. Just text me. Sorry, you’ll probably need my number for that, huh? Don’t know where my head’s at today. Here. Take it. Parties there are totally better, but that’s to be expected,” Laura said, the words rushing out of her as she scribbled her number on top of Jackie’s notebook, then went to sit behind the clique with a girl in fishnets and short-shorts.

Wouldn’t have guessed. But maybe there’s a concert tonight at one of the clubs. Orrrrrrr... never mind, Jackie thought, raising an eyebrow at the extreme PDA the two girls were engaging in. Then class started, and Jackie focused on the finer points of calculus.

Laura and her new friend left with the cool clique after class, but with a growl instead of a giggle, and Jackie was relieved. She had free time after calc, so she went over to the cafeteria in the student center to do some studying and catch a snack. So glad those ghost stories were just stories. I should totally go over there tonight and party with Laura—show her I still want to be her friend.

The sharp clatter of a plastic tray against the table jolted Jackie out of her train of thought, and she watched as a girl in skater jeans and camo sat down in front of her. “Sure, why not? You could ask, but what the hell, it’s not like there isn’t anywhere else to sit,” she said, her inner bitch barking as she gestured at the empty tables around her.

“You have calc with Stuart, right? Just came out of there, right?” the girl said with fear in her eyes.

“Yeah, me and two hundred of my closest friends,” Jackie snapped back.

“But you know Laura Russo, right? Or you did. You don’t anymore. You don’t know that you don’t anymore, but she’s dead, and if she’s not dead, she’s dying. She told you about the doorway, right? They made her rush for that. One thing to tell stories, right? But around here, never mention the doorway. They’ll hit you harder for it.”

“Um. Okay. Have you thought of introducing yourself to Neve McTavish? She’ll eat you up. Maybe literally, if what I hear about her and her buddy are true,” Jackie sneered.

“Right. That’s what I was afraid of. Here, look. Russo’s phone, right?” the girl said, pulling out a phone with a Ramones skin and accessing a picture. “Should look familiar, right?” she asked as she slid it across to Jackie. “Jackie, freshman. Danger zone. Too much like them to survive, gets it enough to survive. Watch and warn.”

Jackie stared at the blurry picture of herself in line at the airport and tried to go after the girl, but she had taken off as abruptly as she had sat down. Note to self: the populars are pigs and the outcasts are creeps. Find middle ground and stay there, she thought. Her appetite for partying had dried up, though, and she resolved to give Laura back the phone the next time their paths crossed. She headed back to the dorm with formulae and theories in her head.

“Some real wack jobs here,” she said to Mikala almost as soon as she was in the door. “Some creep threw someone else’s stolen phone at me and then took off, and then I found out that this girl I thought was my friend, or at least could be my friend, was sneaking pictures of me like some kind of stalker. I mean, ew!”

“That’s nice,” Mikala said, dolling herself up in the mirror.

“I take it you have a date,” Jackie said dryly, recognizing the hunting attire of a tight dress with a barely-legal skirt.

“Oh, yeah! Balla, no less. That hotshot freshman with the sweet hook? He asked me on a double-date with one of the girls’ players at the ACC. Hey, that’s where the athletes live. Don’t judge me for answering a booty call. Once in a lifetime chance. And he seemed like a nice guy—well, aside from his hand getting a little low. Yeah, a nice guy, not like I imagined,” Mikala rambled, caught in the daydream of a woman in need.

“Have fun. Mom packed condoms I never intend to use, so you want ’em?” Jackie said, nervous for Mikala but not understanding why. Something seemed off about her behavior, something submissive and without Mikala’s usual pride.

“Stopped on my way over, so I’m good. Room’s yours tonight. This is going to be so awesome!” Mikala crowed, twirling around to show off the gold dress that clung to her in all the right ways. Jackie found her mouth watering as Mikala walked away, and had to make an effort to close it.

Morbid curiosity made Jackie leave the door half open and watch as Mikala entered the code. The door to Jameson opened, flashing bright as the noon sun, and Mikala stood in front of it for a few seconds, her purse dragging on the floor as her arms went limp. Her back went very straight and she walked inside, the door closing behind her like the shadow of an eclipse.

Jackie blinked away the brightness and turned on her radio. With the background noise of familiar music, she started texting her family and Carlene.

Someone knocked on the door around ten, and Jackie opened it. To her surprise, it wasn’t a dazed Mikala, Laura looking for her phone, or Carlene needing to talk. The RA looked up at her with a smile and shuffled into the room to go through the drawers.

“Um, that’s not mine, that’s my roommate’s, and if you’re looking for anything scandalous, I’ve got a shirtless picture of Paul George, but that’s about it,” Jackie said nervously.

“Oh, no, no, no, neither of you is in trouble. We made the mistake. Shouldn’t have someone so far out of your comfort zone rooming with you this early on. Are you going to be out this weekend? We’ll be moving in someone from another floor. Miss Talbot found a more compatible roommate in Jameson,” the RA explained earnestly.

Jackie tried not to gag at the thinly concealed racism and tried not to think about what this move had to do with the bright light behind the door. “Actually, I thought we hit it off. Guess she thought different,” she said with a coy shrug.

“I’m sure you did, but... well, if someone finds a roommate they like better, and we have a chance to upgrade them to Jameson, or Hyatt for the boys, well, how can we not give them that chance?”

“Funny. You should have heard the things she said about Jameson before last night,” Jackie bit out, suspicion overwhelming her confusion.

“Hon, you’re not from around here, are you? There’s still plenty of Southern influence around here. Most people, especially the locals, are more comfortable when everyone’s with their own kind.” The RA put emphasis on the last words, and Jackie looked at her sharply, suddenly getting the sense that she was hearing the wrong dog whistle. “Not my rules, not at all, but... this won’t be your first roommate change, maybe not even in this semester. Trust me. Drop it now. You don’t want to get into any trouble over this.”

“Southern influence, huh? I’ve got a friend who can explain that to me. And don’t worry, she’s definitely my kind, so you don’t have to worry about no one being comfortable if I stay with her,” Jackie said with a curl of her lip and a hint of a blush. See? I can play your game too.

She threw some things in a backpack and headed downstairs, texting Carlene on the way down. The door was open by the time she got there, and before Jackie could think better of it, she lashed out, “So you guys still have secret apartheid down here, I see.”

“But some of my best friends are black!” Carlene shrieked in mock indignation.

Jackie recognized the mocking tone and laughed. “Thank God you’re not like them.”

“I do thank the good Lord every day for that,” Carlene drawled. “C’mon in and set yourself down and tell me just what went on in there.”

“I don’t even know if I know myself. She was going out on a date. She seemed pretty high on it—suspiciously high. She went through the doorway, and two hours later the RA is shoving her stuff in black garbage bags and telling me to stay out of it. I’m not talking about moving stuff like she’s helping Mikala get comfy in her new digs, but like they’re gonna be for sale on the Internet or something.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, hon, but you wouldn’t have been watching one of those trashy vampire movies when she walked in, would you?” Carlene asked nervously, and she couldn’t meet Jackie’s eyes.

“Any sprint races this weekend?” Jackie asked with a jolt.

“Any sprint races? Good gracious, does the word Hialeah mean anything to you?” Carlene said.

“Um, is it close to Daytona?” Jackie asked, bracing herself for the inevitable dirt track racing conversation. She stayed awake long enough to know that they were heading out, and joined Carlene in her beat-up car to go to the track.