The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

[Hopefully the use of exposition and summation is not too frustrating for those who have already read Zoners. This chapter should have most of that.]

I had my own room in the NICU. Two walls were glass, the other two were filled with photographs of the brain, with arrows pointing to them, explaining what the various parts did. I remember glancing over them when I wasn’t sleeping.

I slept a lot through Tuesday, only waking up when they needed me to swallow some pills, or to test me. All their cognition tests I passed with flying colors. My brain was already adapting to having part of it removed. I recognized my family, I could do simple sums. I didn’t feel 100%, but who does after any surgery?

The other time I was awake, was to go to the bathroom. Surgery makes you thirsty, so whenever I was awake I asked for water, and was given at least a glass to drink down. Plus they were pumping all these fluids into my body... Anyway, after I stumbled to the toilet, I took a look in the mirror.

My “beautiful” curly hair had been shaved down to nothing—there was already a little stubble poking through. On the right side of my head, 23 glistening staples traced a horseshoe shape above my ear, starting at my forehead, and ending below my eye. On the left side of my head was another gash, a straight line coming back on my head, its starting point almost a mirror of the horseshoe. I also had small circular scars around my head, where they’d put the screws. I found out later that was a scar from the apparatus they’d put me in for the brain surgery—I’d had a seizure in the OR. Something about the anaesthetic not mixing well with the anti-seizure medications.

I’ll admit, I kind of liked the look. Sure, maybe I looked a little like an escaped mental patient, but I could live with that. After all, I had an entire harem, I didn’t need to worry about attracting anyone new.

On the bright side, I only needed to be in the NICU for a day. They declared me in a fine state of health, and that night I was moved back to 517, my old room. The rest of the week in the hospital went by quickly, although time seemed to crawl while I was in there.

Zeroes

Chapter 1: Hospitality

Phoenix: Hospital—Wednesday

It’s amazing how quickly we adjust. I’d spent less than a week in room 517, and still I felt like it was “my room.” Alicia and Amy were my nurses—Amy had switched shifts with the other nurse who’d been working with Alicia (a guy, I’ve forgotten his name). They were an interesting exploration in contrasts—Alicia, the youthful redhead, barely 18, freckled pale skin, and Amy, an older Asian, duskier skin. Both were short, and slender, with bodies like dancers, or runners. And each was under my control—or at least, that’s how it was before the surgery.

“Hello, anh,” Amy said, bowing to me. She was wearing her nurse’s uniform buttoned up to her neck again.

“Oh Em Gee,” Alicia said, putting her hand to her mouth.

I looked at her. “What?”

Alicia just shook her head, looking almost ready to burst. “I can’t tell.” She shot a look at Amy.

“Oh, come on. You can tell me.”

She looked at me, then at Amy, then back at me. “Okay, I can tell you.” She looked me in the eye. “You’ve made Amy a slave, haven’t you?” I nodded. Then she looked back at Amy. “He’s the new guy you were telling me about at the dojo?” Amy nodded, and Alicia let out a big sigh of relief. “Good.”

“Dojo?”

“Yeah,” Alicia said, in her usual bubbly manner. “Amy’s dad is, like, this serious martial arts master. Got a white belt, which is, like, the most awesome there is. Does something called Vovinam.”

“Vovinam,” Amy said quietly, pronouncing it slightly differently.

“Right! That!” Alicia nearly bounced in her chair. “I’m still learning, still wearing the blue belt, but Amy’s got a red belt! She’s practicing swords and staffs and all that. She’s really good!”

Amy just stood there, her skin flushing from embarrassment. Her eyes shot daggers at Alicia. “It is unseemly to boast,” she said, then turned to me, and bowed. “I apologize, anh.”

“Oh, don’t be. I like to hear about your accomplishments. I’m impressed, and maybe a little proud.” It was true, too! If I hadn’t accidentally taken these girls’ minds over with the seizures, we probably would have passed each other likes ships in the night. Now we were tied together by circumstance, a deep bond. But isn’t that, more or less, how life always works? There are more people in the world than anyone can possibly meet and appreciate, and it’s only through random circumstances that people maange to meet.

Amy gave a little bow. “Thank you, anh.” I didn’t think it was possible, but Amy turned even redder than before. It suited her. She cleared her throat, then changed the subject. “You have taken Alicia, then? She is your property?”

Now it was Alicia’s turn to blush. “I wouldn’t say property, exactly.” She looked away, starting to breathe heavily. “But the dreams I’ve been having...” She looked at me, licking her lips. “Um, well, my lunch break is coming up soon, if you want me to show you.”

I almost said no—I mean, I was just out of the NICU, recovering from major brain surgery. But I didn’t want to turn her down. “Um, okay. Just be gentle.”

Alicia giggled. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to help myself. But I’ll try.”

Amy flashed Alicia a dirty look. “Perhaps we should let him rest, at least for the day.”

Alicia stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “Oh, fine.” She winked at me. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Maybe,” Amy stressed.

“Spoilsport!” Alicia stuck her tongue out at Amy.

I just laughed.

Phoenix: Hospital—Thursday

The next day, I finally coaxed the hospital wireless into recognizing my computer. Trust me, if you want to get online in a hospital, reliably, buy your own cellular broadband plan. The services hospitals provide are lackluster, when they exist at all. But I digress.

Along with another healthy dose of weekend spam, there were emails from my ‘harem’ in Italy waiting for me. Of course, my Italian harem consisted almost entirely of students studying abroad—classmates, were I still there. Instead, thanks to the repeated sudden attacks of the seizures, I was sent home. I wasn’t bitter, of course. Okay, maybe a little.

Don’t tell me you wouldn’t feel a little resentful if you were forced to leave behind what I was forced to leave behind—not only the beauty of southern Italy and the Mediterranean, but also the girls that had first been impressed into my ‘harem.’ I missed them all, and from what they said in their emails, they most assuredly missed me too.

I remember laughing at an indignant email from Marissa—my first victim or recruit or concubine or whatever you want to call it. Even now I still haven’t really found a term I really find agreeable, at least not without digging into the lesser read parts of the Oxford English Dictionary. Marissa had been taken when I had a seizure during a wet dream, and spent the next several days getting exposed to more and more seizures. To be frank, she wouldn’t have been my first choice - she was a nice enough girl, but she was small-chested and had eyes of two different colors, which was damned unsettling to say the least. Marissa’s email had been indignant because Diana had been the first of my harem with whom I’d communicated via dreams. And the last. I hadn’t really done it on purpose, and had no idea how to do it again. Apart from her complaints, Marissa spent a lot of time talking about her breasts, and how she felt they were tender and maybe getting bigger. I figured it was just wishful thinking, maybe some of it influenced by the wet dream that first claimed her.

Ah, Diana. Out of my conquests among my Italian students, Diana Baker was certainly the most beautiful. Like a slender porcelain doll, her eyes were clear blue glass, her face more expressive than almost anyone around her. She always looked less real than everyone around her, but still brimming with life. I never quite figured out what color her hair was—it was long and golden, sometimes red, sometimes brown, sometimes blonde. Diana had also emailed me about the shared dream, and was looking forward to trying again. I shot her back an email telling her that, with the tumor being taken out of my head, I was pretty sure that it was a one-time thing. She also told me more about how she and Richelle—her roommate—were hooking up. They’d both missed me, so they were taking out their feelings on each other.

Then there was an email from Richelle, which read like fan fiction, describing everything that’d been going on between herself and Diana. She was the first person I’d let in on the whole mind control thing that hadn’t been affected—though she soon would be. Once she was affected, she took to it enthusiatically. She talked me into “hypnotizing” her—though the trances I could make them get was far stronger than any true hypnotic state. She was as thin as Diana, but shorter and more well-endowed on top. Until I tranced her out of it, she’d resented her “freakish, porn-star” chest her whole life. Her hair and skin were darker than Diana’s—her skin dusky and olive, her hair a deep brown. Since I’d left, she’d gotten a tattoo on the inside of her left breast, over her heart (she sent a picture), a weird stylized ‘k’ which I imagined stood for “kajira,” the trigger word she’d selected for herself. I made a mental note to look that word up, then I decided to just send her a message asking what the word meant to her.

The next email was from Bobbie. Bobbie and I shared a birthday—one which was coming up the following Monday. Bobbie had a real ‘girl next door’ look, with dishwater blonde hair and a full figure, easily she weighed as much as Diana and Richelle put together. She was the only one who shared with me her thoughts about Demetrius, the hypnotist that had taken my sister and others. It warmed my heart when she said I’ve met lots of men in my life, and you’re the only one I trust with this kind of power. She seemed to agree with Erin that the guy was probably evil. But I’d had the tumor cut out, I’d lost my connection to the power I had. I had no idea what I was going to do about it. I dropped her a line telling her my doubts and concerns.

Finally, there were emails from Edward and Ingrid. Ingrid was a bookish, withdrawn redheaded girl who looked like Brigid Brannagh. Edward had a movie star’s looks, and a wandering eye—one could charitably call him a player. I’d put Ingrid in another trance (trigger word ‘ginger’) and more or less gave her to Edward. It looked like they were poised to become a couple, both were exploring the trance, and enjoying each other’s company. I never thought I’d see Edward settle down, but looked like he found a situation where he could feel comfortable (with a little help from me, I guess), or at least an arrangement where he could seriously get to know someone. It was adorable. I didn’t consider either of them members of the ‘harem’ but they were a part of it as much as anyone.

anh?” Amy came up to me. She blushed. “Alicia was talking to me about you and she mentioned something about hypnotism. You put her into some sort of trance.” Amy gave a little bow. “If it pleases you, anh, can you do that to me?”

I looked up from my computer. “Um, yeah. I guess. Why?”

“It will let you mold me to your wishes,” Amy said. “Also, Alicia tells me it is very pleasant.” She blushed again. “Will you do it?” She gave a little bow. “I am sorry, anh, I do not mean to push.”

“It’s okay, Amy.” I set the laptop on an end table and patted the bed next to me. “Come here. Sit down.” She sat down, instantly, and looked intently at me. “Um, well, okay.” I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if this would work without the extra special whammy of the seizures and the tumor. She was still staring. “Imagine how Alicia felt when she was in a trance, imagine how you’d think a trance should feel. Feel yourself under my control, ready to respond to my words.”

Her eyelids flickered. “...yes...”

“I’m going to count down from ten to one,” I said. “Each number will bring you deeper. When I reach one you will be as deep as you can be, completely ready to obey my every word.”

“...obey...” She was starting to breathe heavily.

I counted down. By the time I got to ‘one’ she collapsed onto me, her head tumbling forward into my shoulder. Go figure, it worked. A ‘new mail’ sound piped up from my computer. I leaned over to glance at it—it was an email from Elise. The subject line said You should be dead! A chill ran down my spine when I read that. A little flustered, I turned back to Amy.

“Amy, think of a word that will make you happy. A word you wouldn’t mind me using to bring you back into this trance. When you decide that word, simply say it to me.”

“Bian,” she said.

“Okay, Amy. Whenever I call ‘Bian’ in the future I want you to fall into a trance like this one, ready to respond to me, ready to obey. Oh, and if I call you ‘Bian’ as part of a sentence, just obey that sentence instead of falling into a trance. Will you obey?”

“...yes...obey...duty...”

“Good girl,” I said. “Now wake up.”

She stirred awake, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “That did feel good, anh,” Amy said, pulling herself to her feet. She gave me a slight bow, once again. “Thank you.”

I glanced back over at the computer screen, and flipped it closed. Death wishes could at least wait until I was out of the hospital.

Phoenix: Hospital—Friday

“How’s my favorite patient doing today?” That was my neurologist, Dr. Parry. Despite being in her late twenties, she looked like Miss Teen Neurology—a girlish, dimpled face, the body of a cheerleader. Long blonde hair framed her face. Every time I saw her, she reminded me of a teen girl playing dress-up.

I gave a wan smile. “Recovering, I guess.”

She walked up to me and started looking at the staples on my skull, probing and prodding them with her latex-clad fingers. “These are looking good,” she says. “We should be able to take them out in about a week.”

“It’s a date,” I sighed.

She blushed, and winked at me. “So, like, coffee and staple removal? Or dinner?” She giggled. “That’s not a real date!” She stuck her lower lip out in a pout.

I gave her a strange look. “Do you want a real date?” This was one of the side-effects I didn’t think I’d ever get used to—the women finding me attractive, and being so open about it. It wasn’t all women—just those who’d been within the spheres of influence during my seizures.

“Um,” she said, turning redder than before.

“So,” I said, “will I be out of here by Monday.”

“Monday? Why Monday?”

“It’s my birthday.” I grinned at her. “If you want a date, you can come to the party.” I didn’t even know what was going to happen on my birthday, but I knew my family—I assumed there’d be a party, probably thrown by my busybody of a sister, Jordan.

“Oh. Oh! Okay.” She blushed again. “We weren’t going to keep you past the weekend.” Then she gave me a sheepish little smile. “A party? I’d like that.”

“Great! It’s a date.” I smiled at her, and maybe blushed a little bit too. “I’m not planning it, but it’s probably safe if you come around sundown.” I wrote my address down, plus my telephone number. She pulled out her cellphone and immediately started keying it in. “My sister’s arranging it,” I said. “I hope it’ll be a pretty casual thing,” I said. “So don’t worry about being dressy.”

“Oh, I know this neighborhood,” she said. “One of my best girlfriends lives there.”

I smiled. “And if there is no party, we can hang out or something.”

She blushed yet again. “Um, sure.” She looked down at her notes. “We’ll probably have the staples out next Friday or so. Not in two days, the Friday after your birthday.”

“So, I’ll be spending a week in my house with a stapled skull?”

“Yeah,” she said. “You’re doing well enough we’re going to let you out. You’re healthy, you’re hardy, you’re healing well.” She looked at me. “You have a great body, in other words.” By this time she was just a walking blush.

“Thanks, Doctor.”

“Please,” she demurred, “call me Ashlynn.”

I smiled at her. “Ashlynn, then.”

“Oh, and let’s get you off that IV,” she said. “You don’t need it anymore.”

“Thanks.” I’d grown to resent that little leash.

That evening, after their shifts, Alicia and Amy decided I was well enough to reenact some of Alicia’s dreams—which by then (to her surprise) had started to include Amy as a third participant. The logistics of one man and two women in a single hospital bed is something I’d rather not get into, but let me end by saying that, while I was almost able-bodied enough to satisfy the two of them, I did my best, and neither one left unhappy. It helped that I could simply order them to have an orgasm when I wanted. There’s something distressingly attractive about that kind of power.

Phoenix: Hospital—Saturday

Amy and Alicia were off for the weekend. Instead the only nurse I knew on shift was Taffy. Taffy was a stripper as well as a nurse—she was slender, with huge plastic globes on her chest. “Double Fs,” she’d say, bragging about them, “for the two in my name.” Apparently, she had a B cup beforehand, for whatever that’s worth. They were bigger than Erin’s; Erin was proud her chest was natural. Taffy oozed sexuality, probably couldn’t even help it. Her hair was a brilliant pink, so she wore a blonde wig while working the hospital.

“So,” I said, “tell me about Demetrius.” I’d already learned that he was a hypnotist, had shows every First Friday at the Goose Egg, a bar near the Audubon, the strip club where Taffy and Erin worked. And for some reason, every girl I’d known who went there turned out to be immune to the trances caused by my seizures. And it really seemed like the girls who attended his show were all attracted to him. Let’s just say I had my suspicions.

A goofy smile spread across Taffy’s face when I asked. “Oh, he’s wonderful! He’s so powerful and masculine and sexy!” She sighed, the sort of overdramatic sigh you might imagine in a romance novel or a soap opera.

My sister stuck her head in the doorway. “Talking about Mr. Rocco?” Taffy nodded. “Oh, so cool! Isn’t he the dreamiest?” Jordan was another zero—she’d gone to the show, too. That’s what probably bothered me the most—that the guy’d taken my sister.

“Where did you come from?” I laughed. “Hey, Jordan. Mister Rocco? He has you calling him that?” I shook my head.

“I’m visiting you, silly!” She came through the door; she was wearing her waitress uniform. “Besides...” Jordan said, waffling. “It’s just a bit more respectful, you know?”

“I’ve never known you to be respectful.”

She laughed. “Well, with him I am. He’s just... powerful.” She shuddered, and it didn’t exactly look unpleasant. It was weird, watching my sister seem to have half an orgasm. “It’s hot.” She smiled at me, winking flirtingly. “It makes me feel sexy. I like it.”

“Ew,” I said to her. “I know guys go ga-ga over you, but you shouldn’t be flirting with me. I’m your BROTHER.”

She looked at me. “Oh really?” Taking a couple steps closer, she leaned over me, giving me a glimpse of her cleavage (which she was uncharacteristically putting on display). She talked low and sultry when she said, “If you can’t handle my sexuality, big brother, I guess you’re not a real man.” She smiled at me. “It’s only right for me to show off my body, after all.” Then she gave me a kiss, and not a normal brother/sister kiss, either.

“Hey, hey hey!” I pushed her off. I mean, sure, my sister is hot enough that all the guys drool over her, but I mean, she’s my /sister/. “What the hell has gotten into you, piccola?”

“Oh, grow up, Eric. It’s not like we fucked.” She winked. “That’ll be for your birthday.”

“Jordan!”

“What?” She shrugged. “I haven’t been with a man since the hypnosis show. I’ve got needs. And you’re my brother, who else can I trust to take care of me, right?”

This was weirding me out. And I suspected that Demetrius had something to do with it. But if his power was anything like mine, I figured I needed to live with how she’d changed. At least until I could figure out how to change her back. So I changed the topic. “I guess... Now spill, what do you really have planned for my birthday?”

“I just invited all your friends over to your house. We’ll start around noon—I mean, it’s summer, you’ve got a pool. Oh, I invited Erin too, I hope that’s okay.”

I shrugged. “Sure,” I said. “Erin and I are still friends. But,” I gestured at my head, “I’ll still have the staples, though. Not good for a pool party.”

“Oh, crap! I didn’t even think about that.” She giggled. “Sorry, /campione/.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind if other people use the pool.” I shrugged. “Oh, I invited my doc and a few nurses.”

Taffy laughed. “Let me guess. You invited Amy, your slave.” She said it in a teasing voice, like a grade-school kid would say ‘girlfriend.’

“Oh, right.” Jordan was chuckling. “I heard about this. My baby brother’s pretending to be dominant. Your little mind control thing.” Apparently, taking slaves was the sort of cute thing a precocious child would do, if you followed the tone of my sister’s voice.

“We should take him to see Mr. Rocco’s show,” Taffy said, taking Jordan’s hand. “Let him see what a man with real power is all about.” She pulled Jordan into a kiss.

“Wait a minute.” I knew Demetrius had screwed my sister’s head up, but I wasn’t expecting to see anything like that. “What was that?”

Jordan was blushing as Taffy said, “Well, she said she hadn’t been with a man. But we’ve been taking care of each other.” Taffy looked at my sister. “Right, hon?” Jordan just nodded. It made me think of Richelle and Diana.

“I can’t believe you kissed me in front of Eric!” Jordan said to Taffy, blushing. “Just... just don’t go to the show, Eric. I don’t want you embarrassing me.”

“Erin’s already invited me,” I said, smirking. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

I had to laugh at the stricken look on Jordan’s face.

Phoenix: Hospital—Sunday

Ashlynn stayed true to her word. They declared I would be released in the morning on Sunday, but thanks to the bureaucracy, it took them until noon to finally let me go.

“You’re staying with me,” my dad said, firmly. “I’ll pull down the murphy bed in my den. I’ll just go without an office until you’re feeling better.”

“I’m already feeling better, dad.”

Gruffly, he said. “Well, you’re staying tonight, at least. Let me at least feel like I’m taking care of you.” He grinned at me. “Besides, Jordan wants to finish decorating your house for the party. You know how she is, she wants it to be a surprise.”

I groaned. I’d been through her parties in the past. I could only imagine the assault on the senses her decorations would be. “Fine,” I said. “One night.”

“That’s my boy,” he said, putting his arm around me. “Besides, Cori can make her ceviche, you know how you like it.”

‘Cori’ was Corazon Rosalind, our Ecuadorean housekeeper. If you don’t count the revolving door of dad’s girlfriends, Cori was probably the closest thing to a mother figure I had. Sure, dad paid her a salary, but she was as much family as Jordan. Cori was maybe 18 when dad hired her, just after mom died—she was my first crush, no doubt. When dad had to work late, she watched Jordan and me. Now she was in her early 40s and still as beautiful to me now as she was when I was young. She had brilliant red hair, bronze skin, green eyes, and a body that just didn’t quit. I swear as she got older, her chest grew. Yeah, it’s a cliché, my inner child still had a crush on his babysitter. And she made a mean beef tartare. She even had some waiting when we got to the house.

I’d rave about the 6,000 square foot house I grew up in, but all you really need to know is that Jordan had her own wing, the part of the house that had had our childhood bedrooms. At 2,000 square feet, it was bigger than my last apartment. And she got free room and board - Dad always loved spoiling her. Guess it’s because she reminded him of mom.