The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Death of a Salesman

The stunning nurse looked back and forth between his chart and his crippled prison of flesh for a few minute before saying, “Ben Holiday, I’m afraid that the time you have left is limited.”

Tell me about it, thought the cancer-ridden, eighty-something former salesman. So why don’t you help me out and do something to make what I have left more enjoyable? I could use another pillow.

She looked him up and down, smirking and considering something for a moment, then hung the chart back on the end of the bed. “There is nothing anyone … I should qualify that. There is nothing that anyone here can do to keep you alive for more than another few hours, but I can make those last hours much more entertaining than they would be otherwise. If you will do me a favour when you get to the other side, that is.”

Going to die, huh? ’Bout damn time. I’ve been living on borrowed time since Normandy. He took a breath—a real, unassisted breath—for what felt like the first time in months. Ben blinked surprise and sleep away from his almost useless eyes and squinted at the nurse. For a change, the picture came in clear and vibrant colours, but he still couldn’t trust it. The nurse was just plain wrong.

Too attractive for one thing, and what she wore didn’t come close to resembling a regulation uniform. She looked more like she’d stepped out of a nineteen fifties men’s magazine: A svelte, leggy, and brunette pin-up clad, barely, in a tight and tiny skirt, a form-fitting and mostly open white blouse, and a cute nurse’s hat. She even brought her own pillows to the party, round, creamy pillows of a sort that hadn’t really interested him for almost ten years.

“Wha-what ‘other side?’” he croaked, finally finding his voice as the nurse slid his hospital gown up and gave him a long look down that unbuttoned shirt in the process. He twitched. My God. Signs of life down there.

“The afterlife,” she said sweetly, massaging life into a cock that felt seventy years younger than the rest of him. “I need you to deliver a message for me, and in return, I’ll make sure your last few hours are more enjoyable than the last few decades.”

“I’m going to die?” he asked with something close to relief. Relief misinterpreted, judging by the look of sympathy in the nurse’s eyes. Kids today. Not only do they think they’re immortal, but they also think they want to live forever.

“We all die sometime, Ben.” She smiled and began to lick his swelling member. “You don’t want to die, no one does, but I’ll make sure you go out a” lick “very” lick “happy” suck “mmmmmmman.”

“Mmmessage?”

“Bonnie—a very pretty girl, you’ll love her—will meet you in the waiting room,” said the nurse before going on to explain what she wanted between licks; kisses; nuzzles; and, after Ben said yes, the rippling muscle contractions of a skilled and athletic vagina.

Paula Renflesh didn’t notice as Holiday barked out his assent, per se. To her it only meant a change in position and an end to the hollow, empty feeling pervading her body. She felt so full now, so gloriously complete. Her entire life focused itself on the friction between her legs as she madly attempted to bring herself off, but couldn’t. Lightning crackled between her legs. She could hear the snaps as sparks shot through the rest of her body, spreading the fire, but never burning her up or delivering the promised bliss.

Strange, un-Paula-ish thoughts bubbled through her sex-starved brain as she drove her body onwards and upwards in a never-ending spiral to a far-off ecstasy.

Adultery with the lovely and married Mrs. Renflesh, said this new mind, should tip the scales enough to give Holiday a few tense days in the waiting room while Peter’s people check the books, but he shouldn’t have too much trouble getting in upstairs. Not with his record and definitely not once they realize his partner was demonically possessed. All the same, I better get out of here before he does something drastic and dies early, or I fall victim to the forced return clause.

And with that, the strange mind departed, leaving nothing but a driving lust for sexual satisfaction behind it. Returned to its regularly scheduled programming, Paula’s mind gibbered insanely for a moment before a shiver ran through her body and reignited the previous, alien, but much more pleasurable train of thought.

“Audios, Mr. Holiday,” said Chari, stepping out of the sexually charged nurse. “A pleasure doing the business with you. I’ll leave her glamour up until you’re done, so you can properly enjoy her and to make up for the inconvenience. Don’t worry about your soul; I wouldn’t wish Hell on a lawyer.”

As she turned to leave, a moan attracted her attention. Chari shrugged, and after saying, “Mrs. Renflesh, you may cum now. Make sure you enjoy yourself and show Mr. Holiday a great time,” she departed.

“Ngggh! Fuck!” sits among the least erudite of last words, but it’s better than what fate originally wrote for Ben Holiday: “Nurse?”

Meanwhile, In Heaven;

“So … you find our provocateur?” asked Malaika, blowing softly on her coffee.

“Wayde?” GA1 Zaniel tilted his chair back and spun around to look at his co-worker. “Not yet. He dropped completely off the radar about an earth-month ago. He called in an anomaly and hasn’t been seen since.”

“An anomaly? And no one’s checked on him?”

“I did, but officially, no. This is Wayde we’re talking about here. Most of the higher-ups would throw a party if he vanished forever.”

“So? You know I’ve never gotten along with the guy, but still … never leave a man behind and all that. ‘Man.’ Hmmmm going to have to rework that phrase to fit it better into the new order.”

“Eh, send that off in a memo to equality division. We’ve got more important stuff to work on. As for Wayde, he’ll be OK. Probably just up to something the brass wouldn’t like.”

“Oh no, not again. Were you around for the time he tried to bust his Ex out of Hell?”

“Heh. That was just his fiancé, but how could I forget?” Zaniel spun slowly in his chair as his mind strolled down memory lane. “Man, that trip was a blast! We totally stormed Hell, kicked ass, and took names, and then the Greeks got it completely wrong. Wayde couldn’t play a lyre if his afterlife depended on it.”

Malaika sat staring at Zaniel until, “You fu … creep! You were one of those … hooligans?”

“Yeah, sort of. You should have been there. Those were great times.”

“I was there … about two days later and let me tell you: For me, those days sucked. Guess who had to spend half of the next era liaising with Hell as part of the negotiating team?”

“Ooop. No wonder you don’t like Wayde. Well, you have to admit, the embassy’s pretty nice.”

“Yeah, after it was finished. Because I was the newbie, I had to shack up in a hotel for the first few years. That was an education. I swear the succubus next door took some sort of perverted pleasure from trying to corrupt me by making out—loudly and all of the time—on the other side of a paper-thin wall. Now we have a proper embassy down there, and yes, the building is lovely, but the neighbourhood around it is pure hell.

“Oh, stop laughing, Zaniel. You know what I meant. Say … where was this anomaly of Wayde’s?”

Meanwhile, On the East Side;

Doug sat in the mall food court with the shaggy angel while the angel gulped down supersized fries, a coffee and delivered a lesson in practical theology. Shaggy is right on. Slap him in a green shirt, give him a Great Dane, and he’d look just like the guy. Kind of expect an angel to be a hippie, but Jesus … Good thing I get the employee discount.

“Behind the politics,” said Wayde as he devoured a burger, “which I don’t want to get into, it comes down to two things:

“One, God is perfect, but not prescient. Or maybe God really does know what’s going to happen, but doesn’t let on to keep us angels from getting bored. Kind of hard to tell with God; HE’s got a poker face like you wouldn’t believe. Never, ever play dice with HIM. The outcome foreseen or not, God sets out a rough plan, puts things into motion, and we, angels, watch over it all, take measurements, give a little nudge every now and then, and ensure no one steps too far out of the bounds.”

Wayde drained his coffee before continuing. “Two, everybody has free will. You can make your own choices, even if that choice is to do what other people tell you to do. This applies to everyone, mortal and immortal. That’s why we have angels, devils, and walkers like me. That’s why we have Hell too; too much freedom of choice can sometimes be a bad thing.”

I just screwed the brains out of one of the hottest girls I know with the help of a demon and now I’m having burgers and fries with an angel, ran through Doug’s confused brain. Seeing the opportunity to jam in a few words while the angel, Wayde, had his mouth stuffed with burger, Doug burst in. “So what does this have to do with me and Chari, and why didn’t you just bust us, or whatever?”

“Basically you’re a good kid,” chomp, chomp, gulp, “Doug, and your history is mostly good choices, but I have to give it to you. When you make a bad choice, you go for the real hum-dingers. You’ve been chumming around with a succubus, and that makes for one hellaciously bad choice.

“Chari’s been wrecking the local pattern. Last week I noticed an unexpected pregnancy show up on the charts and then blip out seconds later. The bureaucrats really didn’t mind because an extra kid skews the projections, and they have to start recomputing from scratch.

“On the other hand, there are guys like me who say, ‘Let it get skewed. Life’s too precious to waste, planned or unplanned.’ I’m all for planning, by the way; in practicality, abortion’s a mess I don’t like to touch—too many fanatics on both sides—but you can probably guess where I stand on the issue. Anyway, sooner or later, she will piss in somebody’s pool, and odds are you’ll go down with her.”

“Go down? To Hell? But she just wanted out of Hell,” argued Doug. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, if you just look at that side of the equation.”

Wayde paused and steadied his cup while Janie, out from behind the counter making rounds with coffee, refilled it. “Thank you, Miss.”

“You’re welcome,” The counter girl replied, unaware of a careless data entry error made by a clerk in New York. Against all of the odds, Janie would soon receive an approval letter in response to her application for an educational grant.

“How do I explain this? It’s like the cold war. No one dares make the first move. Heaven will win, that’s a given, but the fight will end everything, and we’ll have to start all over. Most of us in Heaven don’t want that, not yet. The more we can learn from this universe, the better the next one will be, so it’s in Heaven’s interests to drag things out. Some of us don’t think that way, and every time a loose cannon gets out of Hell and starts messing with things, it lends weight to Restartist’s agenda. To nip that possibility in the bud, the hard-core Continuationists will drop on Chari’s head with absolutely no mercy. Good luck surviving the crossfire, Doug.”

“The who?” asked Doug, straining to drink it all in. With the crowds I seem to be travelling in these days, knowing the players could save my ass.

“Yes it could, Doug.”

“Fuck! Stay out!”

“If you want privacy, don’t yell so loud. I wanted to keep out of politics, but … Restartists. OK. These guys figure this universe failed when Lucifer split and want to end everything, wipe Hell off the map and start over. We’ve also got the Continuationists. They’d like to see Hell gone, but they want to keep the status quo more. And there are a few dozen fringe groups that don’t really amount to much.

“So this is what? Republicans and Democrats?”

“No, the ideologies are too different. When was the last time a president said, ‘Screw it. Let’s blow up the world and start over?’”

“Uhm. Never, I hope.”

“Precisely. We deal in higher stakes and with less grounding in reality. For some of us, everything is an abstract. One human more or less doesn’t matter, so if they all get wiped out, who cares?”

“I do,” replied Doug.

“So do I and more than a few others, but a lot of us with that view bailed and walk the mortal world as free agents these days. Being an Angel, especially a Guardian Angel, is a very high stress job, and not everyone can take it. Add in officious morons gumming up the works in the name of efficiency, and it’s a wonder that anyone can handle it. Personally, I preferred the hands on approach we used in the old days, but now it’s all meetings, paperwork, committees, and garbage like that. Worse, I can’t imagine why; it’s not as if Heaven has to run on a budget with the big G backing us.

“So these days I travel, see the world I helped build, and lend assistance where I can without being noticeable enough to skew the curve. On the down side, I have absolutely no budget. Which is why you’re paying for the food.

“As you can see,” he gestured at his grubby attire, “it’s not the best life, but down here I can do stuff. I can make a difference in the lives of ordinary people.”

“This makes no sense,” said Doug. “Heaven’s supposed to be the perfect place.”

“Ah, that’s just the result of bad marketing, Doug. Don’t get me wrong, Heaven on a bad day is better than this, but ultimately it’s what you make of it. Some people are just never happy and screw things up for everyone else. The problem is people, especially the marketing department, mixed up God and Heaven.

“You see, God’s perfect, but no one else is. For the most part, Angels have to muddle through eternity the way you guys muddle through life. We make good decisions, and we make bad decisions. Me, I screwed up with Torquemada. I thought he understood where we were going. The church needed some serious housecleaning, and he was the man to do it, but … I didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Yeah,” chuckled Doug. “Apparently no one does.”

The seedy angel in the battered trench coat fixed him with a glare that said what his mouth didn’t: “Shut the fuck up.”

“Uhm,” stammered Doug. “So what, you going to take Chari back to Hell?”

“Not on your life. I’ve seen the place. I wouldn’t wish Hell on anyone, Lawyers and demons included. It’s supposed to be a reformatory, but I think it’s one big mistake. The kinds of things you have to do down there, just to get a modicum of happiness, practically dooms you for eternity. Add to that all of the review boards being crooked, and no one gets out.”

“So why not shut the place down?”

“You have any better ideas? We have to put these people somewhere. After the fall, Lucifer chose Hell. The angels who sided with him chose Hell. Chari chose Hell, but then she never was satisfied with what she had. A lot of people down in Hell chose Hell, but not everyone. There are some bloody stupid rules about who goes there.”

“So Chari and I just walk? And you’re gonna let us? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Free will, Doug. You have to choose whether you’re going to walk and ignore me or whether you are going to do something about the mess you’ve made. You have to make your own choices and live with them. Unlike some of my peers, I take this sort of thing very seriously. My recommendation is that you think things through and tread very lightly until you make your decision.”

“Ditch Chari?”

“No!” shouted Wayde, knocking the few fries he had left to the floor with an emphatic gesture. “For now, you are the only thing anchoring her. You’re my hook—I can find her by finding you—so keep her close and for God’s sake, don’t let her run loose. I don’t want to think about the kinds of things that she’d do if you cut her off from her food source.”

“And you think she won’t know I’ve been talking with you? I’m pretty sure she goes rummaging through my head while I’m not looking.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve, uh, taken the liberty of … arranging that she won’t find anything incriminating.”

“You’re going to wipe my brain?”

“Of course not. What use would giving you a warning be if I just erased it after. Get your brain out of your dick and think for a while. I’ve just helped your mind route itself around me, but it’d still be a good idea if you didn’t think too hard about me. The brain’s a complicated instrument and one poorly placed neural pathway will let Chari, or anyone else who knows how, in.”

“Pfft. Like I can control that,” said Doug. “I’ve got a lot to think about here.”

“Like I said, the brain’s a complicated instrument. You’d be surprised what it can do.”

“You’ve painted a pretty bleak picture here, Wayde, so I’ve got one last question: Other than getting whatever street cred you guys get for saving my soul, what’s in this for you?”

Wayde downed more coffee and looked at Doug. “I remember Lucifer before the fall. Sure, he was an egomaniac, but his real problem was that he never got it. He never really understood free will. People were toys to him, and Chari’s just following his model.

“She was a nice girl once,” mumbled Wayde, his eyes drifting, “and no one is beyond redemption. That means you have another option besides walking away and going to Hell.”

Meanwhile, In Hell;

“Hello?” asked the nasally voice of the junior sub-demon. “Excuse me? I’ve got a book here that’s a little overdue. Hello? Hello?”

The Battle on the Home Front

“It’s not here,” said Kimmy.

“Neither’s Doug,” whined Amy. “You said Doug’d be home, Lee. You said he promised to be home for dinner.”

“Well … maybe he went back out again. I didn’t think he would since it’s not his gaming night, but lately … Well you know.”

“Oh I know alright,” hissed Amy. “Mira.”

“Mira?” asked Kimmy.

“That Mexican bitch, Mirabel Cervantes,” snapped Amy. “She could have taken her pick from the school’s sports teams, but she took my Doug.”

“Mirabel Cervantes? She was fourth in the spring pageant. What’s she doing with Doug?”

“Everything!” moaned Amy. “Trust me, she’s a complete slut. I would be so much better for Doug, if only I got a chance.”

“See, Lee?” Kimmy pointed at Amy. “I told you. Doug’s doing something to people.”

“Yeah,” said Amy. “But he’s doing it to the wrong people.”

Ignoring her nymphomaniacal friend, and the paranoid one, Lee called into the empty house. “Mom? You home?”

The door to the master bedroom opened a crack and light poured out. “Just swinging by to grab a few things before I go back out again,” replied her mother.

“Go back out where?”

“Some of the girls from the office were going out for drinks and I figured, ‘What the hell?’”

The door opened all of the way. With the dark hall in front and the only light behind, the silhouette of Lee’s mom didn’t look anywhere near her age, but that was probably the clothing talking.

“Mom?” Lee stared as the slinky—almost parody—mother glided towards the girls. Night out with the girls? Holy shit! It looks like she’s going out man-trapping. Dad’ll sure love that when he gets back out. Come to think of it, he probably will—free divorce and the asshole’ll get his hands on half of mom’s money.

“I had a dull day at work and just decided to do something different tonight. Hello Amy!” Mom’s eyes swept over Amy’s practically naked body, and Lee swore that the gaze lingered the girl’s very prominent forward projection. “That suit looks very nice on you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kerr,” replied Amy before looking over at Lee. “See? It’s not too small. Your mom thinks it’s OK.”

Oh come on! Lee almost blurted. What suit? It barely covers her nipples. Instead, she just shook her head. Actually, mom looks a lot like me when she’d not trying to be frumpy. Seems like I got my boobs from dad’s side of the family, though.

Mom’s attention switched over to Lee’s other friend. She nodded and coolly said, “Kimmy.”

Then mom slithered out the front door, pulling it shut behind her.

“Well,” said Lee. “After that, we know one thing: It’s not Doug.”

“What d’you mean, Lee?” asked Kimmy.

“For one thing, mom’s not after Doug. For another, Doug and Mom? Eeew.”

A key turned in the lock. The door opened. Doug barely made it through the door before Amy stood in front of him, her hands behind her back and her blue bikini, or rather the contents of the blue bikini top, on full display.

“Hey, where’s mom?” Doug asked, looking around and trying to ignore Amy. “I need to apologize for missing dinner. I, uh, got busy working on … something.”

“You should have done that when you passed her coming in,” said Lee, pausing as Amy planted her hands on the side of Doug’s head and pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss. “Uhm, Amy? You mind? Mom left just before you got here, Doug, but I don’t blame you if you didn’t recognize her. I almost didn’t.”

“You sure? I didn’t see her and the car’s still out there,” Doug said around a mouthful of Amy.

“Positive. You were, what? Thirty seconds behind her?” Kimmy nodded confirmation, but Doug didn’t see. Amy’d plastered herself all over him.

Pushing the girl back, Doug looked at her a moment and sighed. “Amy, sorry, but not tonight. I’m, er, wasted. Rough day at—Mmmph—work. AmMmmmwah Amy? Stop.”

Holy fuck! He just turned down Amy? She’s all over him, grinding against that huge cock of his … Get your mind out of the gutter.

With the huge smile on her face, Amy didn’t look dismayed at the refusal. “Oh darn. Whenever you’re ready, I guess.”

Kimmy turned around, rolling her eyes and miming gagging. Her eyes shot wide open as Amy continued.

“I was talking with Tamara this morning and she gave me a few ideas about how to get you ready.” Amy’s arms wrapped around Doug’s waist and those big boobs of hers slid up and down his chest as she rocked her hips softly into him. “Stuff she says you really like. And I’ve got my own specialties. Want to try one?” She bounced her boobs against his chest meaningfully. “Or two?”

I’m not nearly as freaked out this time, thought Lee, watching the motions of Amy’s back as the girl’s belly rolled. Doug didn’t protest this time when his lips locked with Amy’s. Maybe you do get used to it. Actually, it’s kinda hot. Wish I had a guy I wanted enough to do that; that bit of belly dancing we learned would really kick ass. No way Doug’s not hard, now.

For Kimmy’s sake, Lee was about to separate the … whatever they are. Not quite lovers, but Amy’s sure trying hard. Spotting a break, Lee moved, but stopped and watched as Doug’s eyes looked over to his right and tracked something, nothing, across the foyer to right beside her. ‘Not like her,’ Lee thought, following Doug’s lips. Like her who? Amy? Jesus. I don’t think she’s even let him look at Kimmy yet. She’s playing it safe and no surprise. I’d dump Amy for Kimmy.

“Lee,” whispered Kimmy, “It’s back. I can feel it pushing on me again.”

“You’re just getting turned on watching those two going at it,” Lee whispered back.

“No I’m not! You think I don’t know what that feels like? I’m not that sheltered. This is different.”

“Uhh. You two mind not whispering behind my back?” asked Amy. She’d actually let go of Doug and turned towards them. And she’d gotten Doug ready.

Really ready. No mistaking that, Lee mumbled internally, trying to find something else to look it. No, not Amy’s nipples.

Kimmy snapped around, her raven hair flying out in an arc and solving Lee’s problem by forcing Lee to close her eyes or risk having them whipped out.

“Doug,” demanded Kimmy, “I want to know what you’ve done to my friends and what you’re trying to do to me.”

Now he sees Kimmy. Too bad Amy already got him hard because this would be sort of cool to … She slammed her staring eyes shut again. God damn it! Down, girl.

“I haven’t done anything. Honest! Hey, are you Kimmy? Ainsley’s talked about you. You’re actually prettier than she said.”

Oh thanks, Doug. Lee turned red and covered her face.

“Doug …” cautioned Amy.

“No!” yelled Kimmy. “You aren’t getting me, so don’t you even try. You’re doing it right now. I can feel it … it … It stopped.”

Ainsley’s eyes tracked Doug’s glare. Nothing but empty hallway. What the hell is he looking at?

“Kimmy, relax,” groaned Amy. “He’s just standing there. He didn’t do anything to me. He didn’t have to … but he’s going to, right Doug?

“Doug? What are you looking at Doug?” Amy shifted her weight to one leg and thrust her breasts out, straining the tiny bikini to the breaking point. “Hello? I’m over here.”

That was funny. Years of whining about guys staring at her boobs and she just got pissed off at someone not looking. Wish I could get a video of this to play back later.

“Oh stop laughing, Lee.” Amy grabbed Doug by the arm and hauled him in the direction of his room. “C’mon. Obviously, we aren’t wanted here.”

“Uhm, nice to meet you, Kimmy. Night, Ainsley. Amy, really. I’ve had a rough day. Uhm … I’m trying to cut back?”

Kimmy stood glaring down the hallway as Doug’s bedroom door closed. Finally she joined Lee in the living room.

“We’re going to get to the bottom of this,” Kimmy commanded.

“Fine,” said Lee, dropping onto the couch and feeling around for the TV remote. “But we’ll do it later. I’m too confused to wanna think right now, and I don’t think I’m getting much sleep tonight.”

“But Amy’s—”

“Been wanting this all week, Kimmy. You saw her at the beach. She’s her own person, and I don’t believe in magic. I do believe in hormones, though.”

“But he’ll get her pregnant, or worse!”

“No he won’t. If there’s one word to describe Doug, it’s careful. It used to be boring, but that’s sure not true anymore.”

“Well, I’m not going to just sit here and let him—”

“Fine. You go in there and tell them to stop.”

“But—”

One of Amy’s patented screeches of delight cut Kimmy off.

“Aw shit. I was right. Amy’s much louder than Tamara.”

“You win,” said Kimmy, her shoulders dropping. “I’m going home.”

After locking the door behind her friend, Lee flopped back down on the couch beside Chari, watched TV, and tried to ignore the racket. Before long, she gave up tuning out the gleeful cries, leaned back, closed her eyes, let her fingers drift under her bikini, and prayed mom didn’t suddenly come home. Getting caught by Doug wasn’t going to be a problem, that was for sure. I’ll know when they stop. Our neighbours’ll know when they stop.

“Now that you aren’t taking your old friends seriously anymore, I suppose it falls to me to find you some new ones. The right ones.” Chari sat back, enjoying the show. “I can hardly wait. You and Doug are going to be such a lovely meal.”

She changed the TV channel to something more suitable, and then, for good measure, she added some extra spice to the simmering stew that was Ainsley Kerr.

Montage

Explaining

“Paul, believe me, you couldn’t have called at a better time. I had to get away from Amy. She just won’t quit.”

“Amy? The blonde with the big boobs that hangs out with your sister? What happened to Mira?”

“Uh, I’m seeing Mira tomorrow night.”

“And so last night you got bored and did some new chick? That’s fucked up, man.”

“Tell me about it. I could be in real trouble.” Doug looked around. No Chari to be seen, like that meant anything. But I gotta take the chance. I have to talk to someone normal. Work this through.

“Oh yeah. Sooner or later one of your harem’s going to flip out.”

“Not from the girls, Paul. That’s under control … I think. I met someone yesterday,” he started.

“Who had big tits, a perfect ass, and long brown hair, so you fucked her, too? I don’t want to hear it, man. I called you up for a reason, and it wasn’t to hear you brag.

“I’m going to say something here I bet you never thought you’d hear,” said Paul. “You’re screwing up the game.”

“The game? What’s the matter?”

“Doug. The quality of the game’s been going to shit lately. You’re late, you’re unprepared—”

“I’ve been busy, Paul. Mira—”

“Mira, nothing! I don’t mind that you got a girl. Really. Fuck, I’m jealous as hell, but one of us had to hook up first. Everybody wants to go out with Mira, but Mira and Mandy and Petra? That’s a bit much, Doug. Amy? Joey says that his sister, Tamara, and all of her other friends would kill for a date with you, the girls at work are all drooling over you—”

“Everyone except Rose.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Doug, open your eyes! Rose is the worst of the bunch. She totally goes to Jell-O whenever you two start flirting. She’d do you right on the counter if she thought it would do any good.”

“Eh? Then why won’t she go out with me?” And what’s with everybody’s obsession with me doing Rose on the counter?

“Probably she doesn’t want to be ‘just another of your girls’, so she’s playing hard to get.

“What I want to know,” asked Paul, “is what the fuck you’re doing, how did you do it, and where can I get some?”

What the hell can I tell Paul that he’d actually believe?

“The truth?” asked Chari, making Doug jump. Paul looked at him funny, but said nothing.

You mind not popping out of nowhere and scaring the shit out of me? The truth, huh? Ha ha ha ha ha. Watch this:

“I summoned up a succubus, Paul. She’s been pimping girls to me.”

“Nice, but why can’t you get that into the game anymore? No, seriously. You’ve got damn near every good looking girl we know willing to do anything for you, and that’s the best you could come up with to explain it?”

“Paul has fairly simple desires,” said Chari, appraising Doug’s fellow gaming geek. “He would be a lot easier to keep satisfied than you are.”

But you’d get bored pretty fast. This is pointless. He’s not going to believe anything I tell him.

“Then tell him something he wants to believe. What really turns him on?”

“Alright, Paul,” tried Doug, “but keep this quiet because it’s probably illegal. Remember what we tried with your sister back in grade nine? I finally figured out what we did wrong.”

“Oh shit! Oh shit. Oh God. You’ve been hypnotizing women. No way. No ho ho ho way. This … I’ve got to see.”

“OK,” said Doug, feigning confidence. “Rae home?”

“Rae? Yeah! Oh yeah!” Paul’s excitement jumped, then dimmed. “She probably won’t want to sit down and try it this time, though. She quit smoking on her own.”

“I bet we can find something she’d like to try out.”

“Hey, Rae,” Paul began a few minutes later, after they’d pulled Rachel away from the TV. “Remember about three years ago when we tried to hypnotize you to stop smoking? Doug thinks he knows what we did wrong”

“And you’d like to try it again?” she replied. “OK, but this better be good and no funny stuff.”

“You’ll do it?” asked Doug, incredulous. “Just like that?”

“Yup, but it all goes on a tape recorder, so I’ll know if you tried to make me do anything stupid. I’ve seen the kind of stuff left in the browser history when I chase Paul off the computer, and I don’t want to wake up a sex slave or something.”

Paul went white. He stammered something incomprehensible to Doug, but Rae seemed to understand it.

“The red stories are the best,” she said with a nasty grin.

Paul went wide-eyed.

Doug looked at his pal and blinked. “Right.”

Experimenting

“Eleven twenty three and forty two seconds,” said Rachel as she pressed record. “Eleven twenty three and forty two seconds.”

“Now what are you doing?”

“Making sure I have the right time in case you guys try something funny like pausing the tape recorder for a minute or two. Eleven twenty three and forty two seconds.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” said Doug.

“Oh no. You wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, dripping sarcasm. Her lips silently mouthed, “Eleven twenty three and forty two seconds.”

“OK.” She planted herself in a kitchen chair and stared up at Doug. “I’m ready. Just the diet, right, guys? You’ll just stick to the diet. I’ll put up with some chicken stuff to prove that it works, but that’s all. Nothing stupid and nothing weird.”

She sat down in the sofa and looked at Doug. “All ready. Remember, if I find myself suddenly wanting to be a stripper, I know where you live.”

“Rachel,” said a soft voice, “Doug is rather good looking, for a kid.”

Hey! protested Doug. You’re just supposed to coach me through this.

“Relax, Doug. She’ll pay better attention if she likes looking at you. Besides, I could really use a nice pick-me-up after what I just did to your eyes.”

What did you do to my eyes?

“Something you and your girls are going to like. You know, your subject’s actually into this stuff. We could turn her into your personal stripper-slash-sex toy, and she’d get off on it.”

Next you’ll be telling me that she really wants to sleep with Paul.

“No! He gives her the creeps. Actually, he gives me the creeps, too. It wouldn’t take much work to make her interested enough in you though.”

Please, no. I can’t believe I can still get it up after all I’ve been through in the last week. If you have to, save it for later. Much later or she’ll think I did something extra when I hypnotized her. I can do this, right?

“In theory, yes, but you’ve never tried it before—”

“Yo,” said Paul, reaching through Chari and waving his hand in Doug’s face. “Doug? You look like you zapped yourself.”

“Just getting ready, Paul. You ready Rae? Look into my eyes …”

One Induction Later;

“Son of a bitch!” Paul whispered several minutes later as Rachel’s head dipped and rolled over to the side.

Hey, asked Doug. Did you do that or was that me?

“I think you bored her to death, Doug,” replied Chari, ducking the question. “I almost wished I was back in Hell.”

“Make her horny or something, and tell her to forget about the tape,” suggested Paul. “Have her give us a show! It’s not like she wouldn’t like it; she’s a lesbian.”

“Since when? Brad’s gonna be pissed when he finds out.”

“She reads the red stories,” whispered Paul. “My sister’s a lesbian, Doug.”

“What the fuck is a red story, Paul?”

“Keep it down, man. Red’s the colour code for the girl-on-girl stories.”

“What?”

“Story site on the web, man. Don’t you check out those links I keep sending?”

“Not really. I’ve been sort-of busy.”

“No shit, Oh Great Harem-master. Do something, Doug. You heard her; she’s into this sort of thing.”

“Maybe she just likes to read the stuff, Paul. Or maybe she’s just jerking your chain. And cool it; she’s taping this, remember?”

“I’m telling you she wants it. She’s a lesbian.”

“Jesus, Paul, do you really know what that word means? Besides, she’s your sis-ter. We stick to what she asked for.”

“So? Tell her to diet and then make her horny. Come on, after half of the cheerleaders you’re going to be mister honourable? Look me in the eye and tell you that you wouldn’t do Ainsley if you got the chance.”

Doug looked Paul right in the eye. “I don’t want to sleep with Ainsley, Paul. Believe me, I’ve had the chance.” Doug cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “You’re getting sleepy, Paul.”

“Don’t you try that on …” Paul’s voice trailed off as he slumped to the ground.

Chari!

“He looks so cute sleeping like that. How about we have him do something funny, like sleep with his sister?”

“He wants to do that anyway, the sick-O.”

“I know. That’s what makes him so cute. He knows he shouldn’t, but he’d do it anyway, if he had the chance.”

“Wake him up Chari. Wait a second. I can kill two birds with one stone here. Will this work?”

“Will what work?”

“Hypnosis. I’m going to hook him up with Amy. See how he likes being screwed unconscious every night.”

“Don’t you think Amy deserves better than this?”

“Hmmm.” Doug looked at his pal lying pathetically on the floor. “Meh. You’re right. Sorry, Paul. Hey, think you could do something to help Rae out with her diet?”

“Like turn her into an anorexic? Easy.”

“No,” protested Doug. “Something healthy. A quicker metabolism or something.”

“I could, but that would really cost you.”

“Like last night with Amy wasn’t enough?”

“It was a good start, but try it your way first. I want to see if this mumbo jumbo really works.

“No, leave him for now,” said Chari as Doug bent over to wake up Paul. “I don’t want his yammering to mess things up.”

“Damn, Paul,” said Doug a few minutes later, chuckling as he helped his buddy up off of the floor. “I didn’t even try. Obiwan’s right: The force has a strong influence on the weak minded. Now, cluck like a chicken.”

“Fuck you.”

“Bock-bock,” Doug prompted.

“Fuck you,” repeated Paul, desperately trying to remember the details whispered to him by the dream-voice. Bonnie? Who’s Bonnie?

In response, a blonde with a to-die-for body teased the back of his mind, just at the edges of his consciousness. He tried to pull the image in closer, but then, “Bock-bock-buhcock.”

He blinked, and then he took a weak swing at Doug.