The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Yoshiko stepped off the plane and caught sight of the car waiting for her. She could sense Victor waiting for her within. The others got into the other cars, leaving her and Victor to their own devices. She closed her eyes once the door was closed. He fastened her seatbelt for her with his telekinetic abilities. His mind touched hers, pulling open a valve hidden even from herself, releasing the pressure within her and freeing her to express her grief.

Only pain had awaited her on her return to the village. The gaijin missiles had done their work well. The largest piece they’d managed to find had been an old man’s penis pinned to a tree by shrapnel. She wished she could bring the agents responsible for the massacre back to life so she could kill them again—but more slowly this time. A swift death under her katana had been far too merciful for the likes of those pigs. Victor’s mental touch gave her the strength to compose herself again.

Patience, Yoshiko. his voice said in her mind. You got the ones who carried out the attack. When the time is right, you will be given the perfect opportunity to strike back at the ones who planned it and gave the orders.

You know this? Yoshiko asked.

My sources are very reliable. With proper training, yours will be too.

I don’t want us to go our separate ways, Victor. Yoshiko responded, sadly. There’s nothing for me back in Japan. At least with you I can stop those bastards from doing this to someone else. Victor nodded, opening the glove compartment. Yoshiko found dossiers on several men, complete with sketches (she discerned two different styles in the drawings, and guessed that both of the Foundation’s precogs had had a hand in assembling the data), names, dates and times of greatest opportunity, and in some cases, any phobias the targets had. A vindictive smile crossed Yoshiko’s face when she saw that the new head of the Supernatural Threat Department was ninja phobic. Back at the hotel, Victor led her to the training area, where she found numerous robots—alloy endoskeletons sheathed in ballistics gel—waiting for her.

“Go ahead and vent. These things are completely recyclable.” Victor said. Yoshiko smiled and went to change, returning in her fighting attire, swords already in hand. The robots were well-programmed, and their exotic fighting-style, combined with the shielding that prevented her telekinetic powers from being used directly against them, made them novel and challenging opponents.

So much the better.

The Foundation cafeteria was bustling with activity as usual when Howard walked in, since he didn’t feel like cooking today. Besides, it was “soul food day.”

“Your training’s coming along very well, Howard.” Inet said, appearing behind him in the line. Howard wondered how she managed to do that.

“Thank you, Mrs. Phillips.” he said.

“You can call me Inet if you like.” she responded.

“It’s, uh, safer this way, ma’am.” Howard told her. For someone who had recently given birth to an eight-pound baby, she was looking hot, especially in her form-hugging white dress cinched at the waist by a gold-colored belt.

“I am not without my defenses, Howard.” she remarked with a smile. “I think you’ve earned some time off, and my husband agrees. You should spend the weekend with your parents.” She picked up a portion of mashed potatoes with cream gravy and urged Howard forward in her kind and gentle way. They got their food, then parted ways, Inet joining Victor and Penelope in a corner booth, Howard joining his girls at a table near the soda fountain.

She wants you to go home for a reason, Howard. I can see it in her eyes, though her reasons are unclear. I could find out for certain, but I would have to probe harder than is usually allowed between allies. Kaede’s mental voice was tinged with anxiety.

Nothing that needs a specific warning, or she would have given one. Howard responded, mentally caressing the entire group. His confidence soothed Kaede, who took up her chopsticks once more—thankfully, the potatoes were thick enough to make this feasible. Howard was thoughtful as he ate his lunch, and before he went back to training he called his mother to let her know he’d be coming home for the weekend. His mother was unusually effervescent, but at the same time, evasive and mischievous. Howard had a feeling that the weekend was going to bring a delightful surprise.

“Oh, my God!” Howard’s mother enthused, wrapping her arms around her son. “You look great!”

“Thanks, Mom.” Howard replied. He’d picked a snap-down shirt whose color brought out his eyes, and had gotten a haircut as soon as the stylist in Wal-Mart opened. His pants were comfortable, but lacked the holes he usually sported, and he’d gotten some nice shoes. He allowed his mother to pull him into the house, where his father did his best to squeeze his breakfast out through his ears. “Dad...can’t...breathe.” Howard grunted.

“Leave some for me, Mr. Farrell!” interjected a female voice. His father released him, allowing him to turn toward the sound. He found a diminutive but reasonably curvy frame sheathed in creamy, white skin and one of Howard’s oversized T-shirts, topped by a river of straight, crimson hair with blonde highlights that suggested a lava flow, and piercing green eyes. There was a glad smile on the young woman’s face, but it took Howard a minute to place her.

“Mandy?” he asked, and she ran into his arms. “Wow, Mandy, I haven’t seen you in years! I thought you moved to Maine!”

“I did, but I came back.” she said. There was anxiety hidden just under the surface, but he didn’t have time to probe her just yet.

“Come on, son, the fish is almost ready. I made it just like you like it.”

His father had indeed made the fish just like he liked it; crispy on the outside, flaky on the inside, with his favorite seasoned bread crumbs, hush puppies, generous amounts of tartar sauce and the best damn fries Howard had ever been treated to. Howard lay on his bed, recovering from over-indulgence. He awoke from a doze at the sound of Mandy entering his room. He beckoned her closer and she sat on the edge of the bed.

“How’ve you been?” she asked softly.

“All right. I’ve been really involved in working with a charitable foundation recently.”

“I’d’ve thought you’d be a cop by now.” she said with a smile. “The way you were always rescuing people back in intermediate school...”

“I’d step on the wrong toes trying to root out corruption.” Howard replied. “Remember that time I blew the whistle on the school for selling the things the teachers confiscated? Oh, wait, you’d already moved away by then.”

“Same old Howard, always trying to be a super-hero.” She leaned down and lay beside him. “I hope it doesn’t get you hurt, Howard.”

“What brings you back to Texas?”

“You, sort of.” she responded. “I mean...well...” She closed her eyes, and Howard could sense her searching for a way to tell him. Her surface thoughts roiled like a lava pool on television, and Howard caught images of men in suits chasing her. There was fire, shooting, blood, fear and pain. She had been running for some time. He sat up and put his arms around her, holding her close. “Howard, I’m in trouble.” Her whispered voice was full of fear. “I...I have these weird powers, and there are all kinds of people who want to use them for their own ends.”

“What kind of weird powers?” Howard asked. Mandy glared at the scented candle on his desk, and the wick caught fire—then the whole candle melted all over the plate it was sitting on and onto the desk itself, flooding the room with the scent of vanilla. He could feel the effort she was putting into stoppering the flow of power coming from her brain, and he added his own strength to help her out. She looked up at him in surprise. Luckily, the outpouring of kinetic energy had stopped. You don’t have to be alone anymore, Mandy. he thought, projecting the thought to her. Her eyes widened, and then she smiled.

Then she began to cry. The time she had spent on the run from criminal syndicates and the government, not knowing who to trust, caught up with her in a wash of emotion. She didn’t like a lot of what she’d had to do to survive. Howard reached out with his mind just enough to lock his bedroom door. Mandy rose slightly so she could kiss him, moaning with pleasure as Howard responded to her growing need. His hands caressed her body through her clothing, and her hands returned the favor. Then, he slipped his hands under the shirt, finding that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. A footnote floated to the surface of her mind about her own clothes not being fit to give to hobos. He thumbed the nipples of her small breasts, then pulled the shirt off her body and let it drop to the floor. His own clothes were piled on top of it, and then they were crawling under the covers, scarcely breaking off their kiss except when absolutely necessary. Her hands were on his cock, guiding it into the hot wetness of her vagina. She bit her hand to stifle her cries as her hips bucked forward, bringing him through her hymen quickly but not painlessly.

Howard kissed her face, neck and breasts until she was recovered enough to continue. He used his presence inside her mind to find out what turned her on the most, and to find the best spots to stimulate. His fingers traced down to her vulva, adding direct clitoral stimulation to what his cock was doing. Mandy arched her back, thrusting her breasts into Howard’s face as she came, screaming into his pillow, which she had covered her face with to keep things quiet. Howard continued to piston into her, caressing everywhere he could reach with his hands and letting her know that he cared for her. She tensed up and arched her back again as she had another orgasm. Howard joined her moments later, letting out a low growl of triumph as his seed erupted deep within her body.

Howard curled protectively around Mandy as she began to nod off, her mind filled with feelings of love and gratitude and belonging. His mind touched hers briefly to make her more accepting of his lifestyle—because he wanted her to be part of it—before he relaxed and joined her in slumber.

Mandy was wearing an old pair of Howard’s pants and one of his old button-down denim shirts with a pair of his mother’s tennis shoes and white socks when he walked her into the Pan-Galactic via the employee entrance. Teddy greeted them cheerfully, but briefly, before getting back to a guest who was having trouble with the fact that she wasn’t afraid of him.

Need any help, Teddy? he asked mentally.

You deal with the other damsel in distress, love, I got this. she responded affectionately. He sensed the partial deactivation of the defense shield, just enough for her to do a little mental manipulation. Howard smirked as the mental noise from the lobby was muted once again. This particular asshole wouldn’t be able to perform sexually unless someone who knew exactly what she’d done undid it; not for his wife, not for his secretary, not for the underage girlfriend pretending to be his daughter as he tried to check in, not even for his cellmate when the compulsion to confess what he’d been doing kicked in.

You do have a mean streak! he thought at her with a mental hug. He led Mandy to the elevators, sending a mental heads-up to Victor. He put his hand on the reader, his eye to the scanner, then spoke into the microphone. “Howard Farrell and guest.” Much to his amusement, Mandy checked for weapons in the ceiling just as he had. The elevator car whirred downward. Arnold was on the other side when the doors opened.

“Cute guest.” he remarked before continuing on his errand. “Join me in the garage in twenty.”

“Uh, yessir!” Howard responded, wondering what that was about. He rode with Mandy the elevator to the top floor, where Victor was waiting for them.

“Hello.” he said amiably.

“Mandy, this is Victor Phillips, he signs the checks.”

“Charmed.” Victor said, kissing Mandy’s hand in genteel fashion.

“Victor, Mandy is an old friend of mine from school...and she’s a pyrokinetic.” Victor’s eyes brightened.

“I’ve been known to do a little of that myself, on occasion.”

“Can...can you help me get this under control?” Mandy asked.

“That’s part of why we’re here.” he said. “Don’t worry, Howard, I won’t tarnish the lady’s honor.”

“What did Mr. Turner want to see me about?”

“He’ll brief you on the way.” Victor said. Howard sighed, kissed Mandy passionately, and left her in Victor’s care before heading back downstairs. She did her best to project thoughts of love in his direction. He responded in kind as the elevator continued downward. He was forty-two seconds early in meeting Arnold, but the engine of the big, black Dodge pickup was already running, and Arnold had hooked up a goose-necked flatbed to it. The big man fastened Howard’s seatbelt for him telekinetically and was moving before the door was fully closed. Max-Max, Damon and Shane were seated in the back. Howard also sensed Paco, Bishop and D.J. following behind in a second vehicle—an RV the Foundation used as a mini-hospital for medical emergencies in the field.

“We have a double precog of a shuttle crash north of Dallas. There’s not going to be much left even for reverse-engineering by the enemy if we don’t do something.”

“Survivors?” Howard asked.

“Depends on us.” Arnold said.

“What’s the plan?”

“We catch.” Arnold replied. “This is where all that gestalt-training you did pays off, kid.”

The trip to Dallas went relatively swiftly—although the fact that they were speeding by a considerable margin probably had something to do with that. Howard altered the perceptions of the police officers in their speed traps to keep them from noticing. Arnold found the place and parked. The team piled out of the vehicles. D.J. and Shane assembled particle-decelerator packs—what some might call “freeze rays,” since they slowed down molecular movement drastically, which had the effect of cooling the target to temperatures as low as ten degrees Kelvin—and set them nearby for fire-suppression. More conventional fire-extinguishers were also on hand for putting out fires in places that couldn’t handle such low temperatures, like on living bodies. There were also breathing devices—enough for the entire team and a twelve-passenger shuttle.

Arnold gathered the others about him, and they began the gestalt. A loose mind-link was forged between the psis, into which most entered confidently, except Paco, who had to banish nervousness first. Arnold pulled the link tighter as the swirling nimbus of a ship reentering normal space from hyperspace, colored blue by the sky, appeared. Reaching toward that place, they found the stricken ship tumbling toward Earth as the energies contracted back to normalcy. With the gestalt increasing their range and strength exponentially, they were able to stabilize the ship’s tumble. They could sense no conscious thoughts coming from within, but there was a life response. The vessel entered the atmosphere leaving behind a line instead of a spiral. The gestalt-minds pushed against the ship, slowing its plunge as much as they could without buckling the hull and turning it into a rain of debris. They curved the plummeting vessel to a less-severe angle, and it splashed into a temporary body of water formed by the recent surplus rainfall. Steam billowed from the hull in a scalding cloud. The gestalt-minds separated into their individual selves.

Arnold lifted the vessel out of the water and mud and set it down nearby. Max-Max ripped the fused airlock door out with his mind, opening the inner door manually. The team swarmed inside, fire equipment at the ready, breathers in place. Howard headed to the back while others went to check the crew. Sparks and smoke were everywhere, and he had to turn a “freeze ray” on a vicious fire in the corridor.

A female humanoid lay sprawled face-down in a rear room, bleeding from the head, a heavy-looking piece of technology swinging nearby. He touched the wound and concentrated on healing. His subconscious mind instinctively put a telekinetic shield around him and his patient in case something should happen while he was healing her. Another heavy piece of technology broke loose and swung from the ceiling, striking the shield and bouncing aside. The girl looked bad. Howard did what he could, but there had been some tissue damage inside the skull. He affixed a breather to her face and carried her out to the RV. Six of the available beds were occupied by patients in restraining fields. Four of those were covered toe-to-head by the beds’ single sheet. Howard mouthed a quick prayer for those individuals as he settled his own patient on a bed and activated the field. Three more survivors were brought in and fielded before they began to load the ship, which had stopped smoking, onto the trailer, cocooned in blue tarp. The wings were detached and placed under the shuttle with the airlock’s outer door. Howard and Paco stayed in the back of the RV with the survivors, grateful for gyroscopes and inertial dampers as the vehicle began to move, hurrying to get away from the scene before enemy operatives arrived.

“Good job with her.” Paco said, touching the girl Howard had rescued. “Seriously, there’s no way I could have done that.”

“Sure you could. You just have to ditch your Syrus Truesdale attitude.” Howard patted his friend on the shoulder and helped him with the others who were still in need of attention.