The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Help walks in a most unlikely form. Scarcely a day after Tracy attempted suicide, an auburn haired young woman steps into her hospital room, hair down the side of her face. For a pretty woman, there’s an air of mystery about her. Yet she seems familiar, in a way that Tracy can’t put her finger on.

“For you.” The mystery woman hands over a bouquet of yellow roses.

“Thanks.”

“I’m just glad someone survived that madwoman’s crusade.”

“Come again?”

“You didn’t know? Our mutual friend is busy trying to turn our school into her own dictatorship. She’s blackmailed the teachers into giving the cheerleader’s straight A’s. The student council is packed with her cronies—except for me—and she’s finally gotten control of the yearbook staff. She’s Il Duce, and she needs to be stopped before it’s too late.”

Tracy bolts up.

“I know you! You’re the woman I saw at the party!”

The woman lowers her head.

“I’m ashamed for what I’ve done.”

“I’ll be damned.” Tracy murmurs.

“I spoke to a friend of yours who described your situation, and after thinking about it, I want to help.”

“But why?”

“I want to make it up to you. After what I did to you, my role in it, I...I feel dirty, ashamed. I need this. I need this to get closure.”

“But you didn’t do anything to me! You just took my jacket!”

“Not quite. Remember when I was talking on the phone?”

Tracy thinks hard. A voice echoes in her mind, the woman’s dialogue clipped and direct. She was obviously speaking to someone, but no way could it have been anything sinister. Or was it?”

“I thought you were talking to a friend.”

“Yes, well—no. I was radioing—letting Colleen know—you were there so the bait could be hatched. But you’ve already figured that out, haven’t you?” Tracy slams her fist. “I should’ve known!”

“No way you could’ve.”

“You used me!”

“Yes I did. But now wrong will be made right.”

“How do you propose to do that?”

“I am placed in a position where I could be of some service to you.”

Tracy massages her forehead.

“As a spy?”

“Yes.”

“But why are you so quick to help? What’s in it for you?”

The woman pulls her hair aside, revealing veins of deep burn scars.

“This was my reward for defying her.”

Tracy is breathless.

“How any person can do that to another is beyond obscene.”

“She’s beyond mad, Tracy. She must be stopped.”

“There’s only one way to do this.”

“Huh?”

“Get me the earring. My powers are useless without them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Never mind, just get them for me will you? By the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Please, call me Tabitha.”

Tracy hooks the heirloom through her earlobe, not blinking an eye as metal pierces her skin. She inhales, preparing herself for the big confrontation. It took Tabitha a few days to get them, but damn it, she delivered. She didn’t ask how. Didn’t want to know. But at least the earring’s back in her custody, out of the hands of the Wicked Cheerleader.

A part of her looks forward to dishing out what was served to her while another is aching at having to punish Colleen. She may be a sociopath, but she’s still a human being. There has to be another way to settle it. Make her skip town. Get her to renounce the photos as fake.

Does any of it matter in the end? Tracy name will still amount to nothing, and the closure—the real closure that Hank and Tabitha and herself deserve—will go unmet. Couldn’t she just as simply drop out and start over at another school? Tell her mom that the situation’s gotten too rough for her and she wants to try her luck elsewhere? No more having to see Colleen’s face again.

But neither would she see Suzy’s, or Joanie’s, or Asha’s, or Hank’s, or anyone else’s.

It’s going to happen that way anyway.

But no way could she leave them behind, not yet. Not while there is still fallout. After everything’s said and done, the school would still have to clean up after Colleen’s Caligula-like antics. The least she owes everyone is a goodbye first.

That means settling accounts with Hank.

Tracy sucks in her stomach as she climbs into the Honda, racing as fast as she can towards the nondescript house in the cul de sac on the other side of town. She practices her speech over in her head, striking the right tone of apology and explanation. Adrenaline circulates through her veins as she pulls into the driveway. She’d better get this right.

She knocks on the door, marching back and forth as though she were guarding the house herself. She wishes. A minute stretches into, two, two into three when finally the door swings open, revealing Hank in all his half-naked, somnambulant self, disheveled and clearly not in the mood for company.

“Go away, psycho!” He hisses.

“Hang on! Don’t you want to know the truth—“

He slams the door in her face, leaving her feeling less than human. She bangs on the door, ringing the bell several times. He opens it once more, visibly irate.

“Are you deaf?” He yells. “I said get off my property, before I call the police.”

“Please.” She speeds up her voice. “Ijustwannatalk. It’llonlybeaminute.”

“Aren’t you persistent? All right, but only for a minute, after that I’m kicking your ass out.”

Tracy looks at the cluttered living room, junked with pots and pans and heaven knows what else.

“What happened?”

“Dad and mom are divorcing. The house closed last week, hence the mess.”

“Sorry for your loss. Are you and Coll—“

“I dumped her for good. I noticed her looking through my drawer the other day. When I confronted her she acted all weird and said it was nothing. I checked my statement from the bank and wouldn’t you know she had reasons to be nervous, thousands of them in fact. I knew her tastes tended to be expensive, but how many mink coats does somebody need?”

“That’s—that’s good to hear.”

“Now that reminds me, why are you here?”

“I want you to know the truth, about me, Colleen, and everything that’s been happening over the last few months. What I’m about to tell you is going to sound really bad, and I know what you’re going to think. But you deserve to hear all of it. I’m tired of keeping secrets.”

Tracy launches into the best explanation she can summon of how she tricked him into loving her. How she took advantage of his vulnerability for what she thought were noble reasons. How Colleen turned the tables on her and blew an opportunity for revenge into a bacchanalian spree of sex and depravity, with Hank as boy toy, slave, and booty. She comes to a close, her throat sore from the talking.

“How could you?” His face is ashen. “I was nothing, a thing and you used me for your own gratification.”

“And Colleen is any better? The only difference is I used you for sex. She’s in a league of her own, her and her friends.”

Hank reddens.

“You belong in jail.”

“You’re right.” Tracy lowers her head. “I do. But hard as it may believe, I’m smitten with you, Hank. Somewhere along the line, I’ve noticed a different side of you, one that the cheerleaders and the players in the locker room rarely see. When you were under my spell, I saw a person of passion, intelligence, full of poetry and wonder. That’s the Hank I fell in love with, not the slave I screwed in bed.”

Angry, spiteful? Hank doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t know whether he should feel anything at all for this stalker. Yet there’s something to be said for her honesty, her forthrightness, risking her freedom by admitting the things she’s done. Colleen would never have been this forthcoming.

Tracy wrings her hands, expecting the worst.

“You’re going to turn me in now, right?” Hank glances at the telephone. She’s got a point. Having sex without his consent is a crime. Not to mention kidnapping, and reckless endangerment. She could go away for a long time.

“Screw it. Life’s too short.”

“You’re letting me go, like that? You’re not even concerned with revenge?”

“The Good Book says to turn the other cheek.”

“But I used you, Hank! Aren’t you the least bit concerned with that?”

“Well, yeah.” He nods. “But the way I see it, I could either be bitter and angry, or I could choose to forgive. I’ve made my choice. Besides, I like that you bothered to tell it straight to my face. That takes a lot of balls. And I like a woman with balls.”

“I like where you’re going with this, but I’m afraid it’s not going to work out.”

“What?”

“I came over here to say goodbye, Hank. After tonight, there isn’t any way I could stay at Bentley. I really wish we could’ve gotten to know each other more. We could’ve been friends.”

“Still could.”

“No Hank, I’m serious. You won’t see me tomorrow morning. I’ll be gone.” Hank arches his eyebrow.

“Well can I at least give you a going away present?” He winks.

“You cannot be serious.”

“What’s a sympathy fuck between friends? Isn’t that what friends with benefits are for?”