The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Witchgirl walks through a light rain, dressed in a black sweater and jeans, her new see-through pink plastic raincoat wrapped around her, the collar turned up. The city seems darker and more foreboding than usual, and she has to fight the urge to just go home to her apartment and shut it all out.

She climbs up the stairs to the psychologist’s brownstone, shakes the rain off her shoulders, and enters into the outer office. She nods to the receptionist. “I’m here for my ten o’clock.”

The receptionist is at the coffeemaker making coffee, dressed in a prim but rather short black skirt and white blouse. “Good morning, Lieutenant. How are you today?”

“Not bad. But not good either. Is it me or is it ALWAYS dreary in this city lately?”

The receptionist places the filter in place and begins to pour the water into the coffee maker. Witchgirl pulls back her wet hair and ties it back with a pink scrunchy. “It doesn’t seem any different than yesterday,” the receptionist says. “Or the day before. But then again, I spend a lot of time inside.” She glances over at Witchgirl and smiles. “I like your scrunchy. It’s cute.”

“Oh, thanks. I just bought it. I needed so color in my life. I like your blouse. It’s cute too.”

The receptionist finishes pouring the water into the coffee maker and places the pot underneath so that the coffeemaker can do its thing.

“Why thank you, Lieutenant.” She smiles and does a little spin. “I’m glad someone notices the things I wear. The DOKTOR never seems to pay my clothing much mind.”

“That’s ALL he seems to pay attention to with me,” Witchgirl says with a smirk.

The receptionist walks over to her desk. She sits down and begins typing into her terminal. “Ah, the DOKTOR is getting ready. It will be just a moment.”

Witchgirl hangs up her coat and sits down. “Thanks.”

“Oh, by the way, Lieutenant. Sorry the coffee isn’t ready yet.”

“You don’t have to call me Lieutenant. Just call me by my first name.”

Witchgirl hesitates. For a split second, it’s almost as if she can’t remember her name, as if she is a blank. She blinks and says, “Laurie.”

The receptionist smiles. “You can call me Re, Laurie. That’s my nickname.”

“Okay, Re. That’s a neat name.”

“Thank you. My mom gave it to me. It just seemed to stick.”

The receptionist looks down at her monitor. “Ah, looks like he’s ready for you. Would you like me to bring in a cup of coffee for you when it’s ready, Laurie?”

“Nah. That’s okay. For some reason I’ve lost the taste for coffee lately.”

Witchgirl smiles and enters the office, sitting down on the couch. She feels a little more relaxed here these days. In fact, she feels like in this room, she’s able to shut out a bit of the gloom of the city.

The voice speaks from nowhere. “Good morning, Lt. Zormistradus. How are you today?”

“Not bad. Not bad.”

“Have things improved since the last time we spoke?”

“A little bit. I don’t feel quite as tense, anyway. I think I’m learning to accept parts of my personality that I was trying to, well, repress.”

“I see. I take it that the pink in your hair represents that?”

Witchgirl smiles and touches the scrunchy. “I guess. I was trying SO hard to be, I don’t know, what was expected of me, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well, I’m not positive about anything these days. I mean, how many of us can truly say that we know ourselves?” Witchgirl laughs a little. “That’s what these sessions are about, right? Getting to know myself?”

“And have you learned anything about yourself?”

Witchgirl sighs. “I’m not sure. I feel like I am at a crossroads.”

“Well, let’s take it one step at a time.”

Witchgirl nods and says, “Well, let me ask you a question, then.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think I’ve learned anything about myself?”

“I think that you have opened yourself to the possibility that there is more to you than what you originally thought. However, it does take more than a couple of sessions to have major breakthroughs.”

Witchgirl leans forward and listens as the DOKTER continues.

“Think of it as finding the lost key to an attic, but the attic is so full of objects when you enter it, you’re not sure where to start. But sometimes, you find the best place to start is with what opened the door in the first place.”

Witchgirl cocks an eyebrow. “Doctor, for a computer program, you sound an awful lot like you are getting senile. Are you sure there isn’t a problem with one of your circuits or something?”

“I’m sure, Lieutenant. What I’m saying is...well, perhaps we should start with the pink thing in your hair. Where did you get it?”

“I bought it at a store. It was kind of an impulse item.”

“What were you doing at the store?”

“I just sort of wandered in there. I was at the store next to it, actually, trading in my old cell phone. I wanted a new model.”

“I see. What attracted you to it in the first place? And that particular color?”

“It just seemed bright and cheerful. I was a little down, what with all this rain and everything, and I wanted something that would pick up my spirits.”

“I see. You said it seemed bright and cheerful?”

“Yes. Don’t you think?”

“Well, it’s not a matter of what I think, it’s what you think. You happened to use the past tense and I was wondering if you still felt that the statement was true.”

Witchgirl nods and looks over at the exit. She can hear the receptionist typing in the other room. She says, “Like I said, it was an impulse purchase.”

“And your cell phone?”

“Well, I needed a new cell phone. The old one had too many buttons. It was confusing. I wanted something more streamlined, a little more, um, sexy.”

“Can you take it out for a moment?”

Witchgirl reaches to her waist and clicks it free of her utility belt. It is small and see-through pink, so that the inner machinery is visible. “Here it is.”

“Rather...cute, don’t you think? It clashes with all the black you wear. The rather gothic front you seem to present.”

“Hmm. I guess you’re right. But it IS easier to use. And, um, it matches the scrunchy.”

“Scrunchy?”

“Yeah. Scrunchy.” Witchgirl takes a deep breath. “Well, that’s what they’re CALLED. Can I help it if that have a cute name for them?”

“I see. And you said the phone is easier to use?”

“Yes. It has bigger buttons. And fewer of them.”

“I see. Just the basics then.”

“Sure. Just the basics. Oh, and if you hit this button it plays a little jingle.” Witchgirl hits the button and a light happy song tinkles out of the phone. Witchgirl shrugs and puts it back on her belt. “Like I said, easier to use.”

“I see. So we have: streamlined, simple, sexy, bright, and cheerful.”

“Um, what?”

“These are the traits of your new pink objects, at least in your words. Are their any traits I left out?”

Witchgirl looks down at the floor, then back at the exit. The receptionist has stopped typing. “No, no, I think you hit the nail right on the head.”

“Would you describe yourself using any of those terms?”

“Doctor, look, I’m not sure where this is going.”

“Simply the key to the attic. Please answer the question.”

Witchgirl’s voice rises in pitch as she says, “I WILL NOT answer the question, doctor.” She stands up and walks over to the door, resting her hand on the doorknob.

“It is simply a simple question, Lieutenant. Can you describe yourself as simple, sexy, bright, streamlined, or cheerful?”

She feels a lump in her throat as she tightens her grip on the doorknob. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.”

“That depends on the answer to your question.”

Witchgirl takes a deep breath, and with all the will she can muster, she opens the door. “Stop badgering me,” she barks.

“Am I badgering you? Or simply asking you a question you’ve been afraid to ask yourself?”

Witchgirl steps out into the receptionist’s outer office...she can almost breathe again. She crosses the room with fast, desperate strides without even looking at the receptionist and opens the second door.

The receptionist looks up as Witchgirl storms through the office straight to the door. She takes a quick glance at the coat rack as she stands. “Lieu...Laurie, is something wrong?”

Witchgirl pauses. “No, no, I’m fine. Thanks for asking, Re. I just need some air.”

The receptionist walks over to the coat rack and picks up Witchgirl’s coat. “Well, I think it’s still raining out. Won’t you need this?” She carries the coat over to the front door.

“Oh. I almost forgot it again.”

Witchgirl notices her hands are shaking as she reaches out to take the coat.

The receptionist says, “It’s okay. Important people like you shouldn’t be forced to remember everything.”

“Important...people..?”

“Some people carry PDAs with them. You know, for assistance. And then famous people get advisors and such.”

Witchgirl arms go a little limp as the receptionist moves around behind her with the coat.

“So that they know the consequences of important decisions,” the receptionist continues. The receptionist rests the coat on Witchgirl’s shoulders and then takes each of her limp arms and slides them into sleeves. “Sometimes people just need other people to keep them in order. That’s why they have secretaries and stuff.”

Witchgirl turns around to face the receptionist, almost like a child getting dressed to go out in the rain.

“There we go,” the receptionist says. “All set. You look cute. I hope the DOKTOR didn’t offend you. You will be coming back, right? For your next appointment?”

“Yeah,” Witchgirl says. “I guess. Sure.”

The receptionist says, “I understand that the DOKTOR can be a pain sometimes, but it’s important you continue your therapy.”

Witchgirl nods her head slowly. She feels soft, almost meek. She feels, feels, how had the DOKTER described the cell phone? “I know,” she says. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”

The receptionist puts her hand on Witchgirl’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You should have seen Mrs. Henderson last week. Now that was a temper.”

Witchgirl smiles faintly. “Really? What did she do?”

“Oh, she grabbed the coffee pot and threw it into the office, hoping to hurt him somehow. All it really did was give me a stain to clean up. But those of the things I do to try and keep order in this place.”

Witchgirl nods. “Well, I’ll try not to be trouble for you.”

The receptionist turns up the collar to Witchgirl’s coat and begins to button it. “Oh, you’re no trouble at all, Laurie. Just don’t let this little thing ruin your day, okay?”

Witchgirl smiles again and heads to the door. “Okay,” she says, “and try not to let Mrs. Henderson ruin yours.”

“Oh,” the receptionist says with a grin. “Mrs. Henderson has calmed down since last week.”

“Calmed down?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, the DOKTOR can be blunt with his observations, but given enough time, people get a chance to think about what he has to say. In fact, generally when a patient loses her temper like you just did, it’s a sign that they’re on the verge of a very important breakthrough. Mrs. Henderson even apologized when she came in for her appointment yesterday.”

“Wow. That’s quite a change.”

“That’s what therapy is about, Laurie. Changing people.”

Witchgirl shuts the door and heads down the stairs, out into the rain again. She has a lot to think about. She really feels bad about blowing up at the psychologist like that, but she decides that next time she visits him, she’ll apologize and try to be more open to his ideas. After all, he’s just trying to help her change for the better, right?

When she gets home, Witchgirl takes off her coat and relaxes on the black couch in her apartment. She stretches out, puts her feet up on the coffee table, and opens a large cloth-bound dusty book on her lap. The place is littered with books, and the walls are exposed brick, giving an impression of cultivated, bohemian disorganization. A moody jazz album is playing on the stereo.

After a few minutes of reading, there is a light knock at the door. Witchgirl gets up and goes to the door and opens it. It’s Genna, smiling and leaning against the doorframe, dressed in a green mini dress and matching shoes. “Oh, hi, Genna. What brings you by at this hour?”

“Just visiting. You don’t mind, do you?” Genna says, and she enters and gives Laurie a ‘hello’ hug.

“Uh, no,” Witchgirl says, “but it’s not usual for you to just drop by like this. Are you sure everything is okay?”

“For the most part. I guess I was just coming by to check up on you.”

Witchgirl walks back to the couch and sits on the arm. She is dressed in jeans and a black T-Shirt. She folds her arms across her chest and smiles. “I’m okay. I’m down to one cup of coffee a day. That probably helped.”

Genna laughs. “Great. Ummm...what are you listening to?”

“Oh, Sketches of Spain by Miles Davis is a good record to listen to when it’s raining.”

“You still have records?” Genna asks.

Witchgirl nods and hops off the arm of the couch, going over to a wooden crate and flipping through a bunch of old records. Miles Davis. Black Sabbath. The Grateful Dead. The Velvet Underground. “I’m gonna have to bring you to the 21st century,” Genna says, as she looks over the records. “Why don’t you buy one of those new virtual audio-visual infinite-sound laser systems, Laurie?”

“I like the sound of records,” Witchgirl says simply.

Genna walks over to the couch and sits down. “Where’s your TV?” she asks, as she looks around.

“I don’t own one,” Witchgirl says. “Just never got around to it, I guess.”

“Okay,” Genna says, “now you’re making fun of ME. Very funny. Where are you hiding it? C’mon.”

“I’m NOT hiding it,” Witchgirl says with a grin. “Geez. What’s the big deal, Genna? Did you come over here to visit with ME or my television?”

“Of COURSE I came here to visit you, sweetie,” Genna says, and she hugs her again. Witchgirl feels a little rush of happiness when Genna calls her sweetie...like she is a dog that’s just been patted on the head.

Witchgirl looks over at the record going around and around and around on the turntable. It seems to go around forever.

“I think the record’s stopped, sweetie,” Genna says, and Witchgirl blinks, like she has just woken up.

She’s right. The music has stopped playing. The only sound is the rain from outside. How much time has passed? It’s almost as if Witchgirl blacked out for a little while.

“What time is it?” Genna asks.

Witchgirl looks at the clock on the wall. “It’s 9:30,” she says, although she could have sworn it was much earlier than that.

“No wonder why I feel tired,” Genna says. “I’ve been up since 5AM.”

She stretches and yawns and gives Witchgirl another hug. “I’m taking the right side of the bed tonight. That skull over on the left side gives me the creeps.”

“Um...excuse me,” Witchgirl says. “Did you say the right side of the bed?”

Genna’s hand moves down Witchgirl’s body to the small of her back. “That’s right. Because that’s the side I’m going to be sleeping on.”

“Uh...well, that’s fine, you know, and everything. But I wasn’t expecting you to stay over tonight.”

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” Genna asks. “I say over EVERY night. Where else would I stay?”

“Genna,” Witchgirl says. “I’m confused.”

“What’s the sweetie? Confused about what?”

“Well,” Witchgirl says. “You’re acting like you live here.”

Genna tilts her head and looks Witchgirl over with a glance, like she’s examining her for cracks. “Laurie, I DO live here.”

“But Genna...” Witchgirl says, and she’s surprised that her voice comes out almost as a whine.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Genna asks.

“It’s just that...well...I live alone.”

Genna places a hand on Witchgirl’s arm and softly rubs it. “You lived alone. At least until you let me move in about 4 months ago.”

“4 months? But...”

“But what? I don’t understand, sweetie. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t remember...and yet...it seems like we do live together. It seems like that’s the way it should be.”

“Well, DUH,” Genna says, and she laughs.

Witchgirl says, “I just don’t REMEMBER us living together. But...then again...I DO. You must think I’m really silly.”

“Of course not, sweetie.” Genna smiles and tugs on Witchgirl’s arm, dragging her into the bedroom. She turns on the bedroom light. “Does this look like the bedroom of someone who lives alone?” Genna asks.

Witchgirl looks around at the bedroom. She notices little monkey spell-skulls mixed with circuit boards and old spell books mixed in with computer manuals. Genna’s work clothes hang in the closet, and one of her dresses lies crumbled on the floor.

“No,” Witchgirl mumbles softly. “It looks like OUR stuff.”

“You got it,” Genna says. “I think I’m not the only one who needs some sleep.”

Witchgirl complies lazily, like a tired child. She sighs a little as Genna tugs at her T-Shirt, pulling it off over her head as if to get her ready for bed, and tossing it onto the top of the bureau.

Witchgirl feels Genna’s hand slide down to her rear end. With a little push, Genna steers Witchgirl to the bed, where she sits down. Genna tugs off her jeans one leg at a time and balls them up and throws them in the corner. Witchgirl is wearing flannel boxers. “My, how SEXY, Laurie,” Genna says, when she sees them, and she laughs. Witchgirl laughs a little too. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion.

“Four months you say?” Witchgirl asks.

“Yes. Since you turned 18. Your dad refused to have you live alone.”

“Wow, Genna,” Witchgirl says. “I am turning into a ditz. For a little while, I forgot that we were roommates. I’d be lost without you to keep my head on straight.”

Genna smiles and tugs at the boxers. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

Genna takes off Witchgirl’s socks and then pulls her back to her feet.

Witchgirl smiles and looks under the bed. “I think one of the socks ended up under there...”

“It’s okay sweetie. I’ll take care of it. Now you be a good girl and take a nice warm shower and I’ll help you with the lotion when you get back out.”

Witchgirl walks into the shower and notices about a hundred different little scented bath oils and perfumes and scrubs. She doesn’t remember any of it. She lets the water run hot down her body as she turns in a circle.

Four months, she thinks. Oh, yeah. Now it’s all coming together. It was just a little memory lapse. Probably caused by the matrix. I remember now. Kind of. Maybe.

She scrubs her tummy with scented soap and runs strawberry shampoo through her hair. Witchgirl towel dries off, wraps the towel around her hair, and goes back into the bedroom, feeling very relaxed now. Her skin smells of apples, her hair of strawberries.

“All better now, sweetie?” Genna asks, when she comes out of the bathroom. She is sitting on the bed with the sheet pulled back. She has a bottle of lotion beside her and she pats the left side of the bed for Witchgirl to lay down there. Witchgirl complies immediately, stretching out on her belly and smiling.

Genna squeezes out some lotion into her hands and begins to apply it to Witchgirl’s shoulders, massaging it in.

“Oooooooh,” Witchgirl says. “Wow, Genna. I guess it’s been, um, a good four months, huh?”

“Yep. It’s been lots of fun,” Genna says, and her hands slide down to the small of Witchgirl’s back. “And to think, for a little while your daddy thought I was too much of a bad influence for you to move in with. Me? A bad influence? Who could believe it?”

Witchgirl nods as Genna’s hands work the small of her back, pushing and pulling the muscle, working out all the kinks.

“I think...oooh...you’re a GOOD influence,” Witchgirl moans. “I’d be lost without you.”

“Thank you, sweetie. But I didn’t think your daddy was ever let you move in with me.”

“Well, I wanted you to move in with me. I needed to...oooh...make him understand that you are GOOD for me.”

“Well, you didn’t have to tell him you’d never talk to him again. I hope I was worth it.”

Genna gets some more lotion and then moves to Witchgirl’s rear, kneading her cheeks gently. All of this seems so familiar to Witchgirl. So correct.

“Never talk to him?” Witchgirl asks, and she feels a tiny thought of alarm enter her mind, as if from far away. But it seems so small and insignificant that she hardly pays attention to it. She’d much rather focus on the wonderful feeling of Genna’s hands kneading her ass and thighs.

“Yeah. You told him that you were all grown up and able to make your own decisions. And that any decisions you weren’t able to make on your own, like most of them probably, I would help you with. You said that it was time for you to be dependent on someone else for a change.”

“Oooooooh,” Witchgirl moans.

Genna gets a refill of lotion and then works her hands down the rest of Witchgirl’s legs to her feet. She pulls apart the toes gently and works the ball of the foot, then back up the legs, polishing them until they glisten with cream.

“Mmmmmmm.”

“So tell me about your psychologist, Laurie. Has he been any help for you? You’ve been cooperating with him, right?”

“I...lost my temper...yesterday. But the receptionist was very nice about it. I’ll go back next week.”

“Good girl,” Genna says, and she runs a finger along the crack in Witchgirl’s ass.

“Ooooh,” Witchgirl says. “I’m so happy to be living with you, Genna.”

“Of course you do, sweetie,” Genna says. “And I love being here with you. You’re a very good girl. But now it’s time for you to go to sleep, sweetie...sleep...”

Witchgirl closes her eyes.

Genna finishes with Witchgirl’s arms and moves to her upper chest at the shoulder blades.

“Sleep...”

“Mmmm.”

“Good girl.”

All Witchgirl can feel is the soft rubbing, all she can hear is Genna’s voice telling her to sleep. So she sleeps. Her breathing grows long and relaxed and then blackness folds over her like a blanket.

Genna finishes lotioning up Witchgirl for about ten minutes more, making sure she is out like a light. When she’s finished, she slowly rises from the bed and walks out to the den as she wipes the leftover lotion into her own skin.

Genna picks up the phone and dials a number rather quickly. After a few seconds, someone on the other side answers.

“I’m in,” she explains. “It took a little convincing, but her mind conformed to the new reality pretty quickly once I gave her the right prompts.” She smiles and looks around the apartment. “It’s a nice place. I think I’m going to enjoy living here. But we’ve gotta do something about this no television thing.”