The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tracy pants, her breaths controlled but steady running around the track. Suzy’s bob movies in concert with her body as she jogs alongside, giving no hint that she has plans of slowing down. Rivulets run down her neck through her soaked top. She wipes her forehead as she glances at the sky above.

“Man alive, it’s hot.”

“Tell me about it.” Tracy glances at the canteen by her hip, feeling ashamed even to consider stopping. “We’re not even three quarters done, and my leg’s killing me.”

“If that’s what it’s going to take to win, then so be it. I feel as though I’m going to die right now.”

Tracy eyes Joanie and Asha, sitting comfortably on the metal bench set back from the track, drinking, their Cheshire grins all but betraying their pleasure at watching the two of them burn themselves up in little more than eighty degree heat.

“Those lucky bastards. Like rubbing it in, don’t they?”

“They’re athletes. Of course they do.”

“When did you say the championships are?”

“June first.”

“The first of June? We’re not even halfway done with our training. Why are they taking a break while we’re out here?”

“It’s physics.” Suzy snorts. “Besides, we got our turn to gawk forty minutes ago.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

Suzy tumbles, sending her to the ground. She grasps her knee, piercing the wind with several colorful words, mostly Chinese ones.

“I’ve heard a lot of phrases, but I’ve not those.” Tracy pulls her up.

“How’s your knee?”

“Just scraped, thank heavens. Imagine the consternation the coach would give me.”

“Don’t have to imagine. He’s sitting in the bleachers over there.” Tracy points. “I swear those binocs are an albatross around his neck.”

“What around his neck?”

“It’s nothing.”

Tracy sips from her canteen and stretches her legs. For the first time in her life, Suzy catches sight of her friend’s other assets, the tight buns all but daring her to squeeze. She pretends not to notice, twiddling her thumbs. Tracy spins around, noticing a dreamy look in her friend’s eyes.

“Is your head in the clouds or something? You look like you’re in a daydream or something.”

“Oh, I, uh…” Suzy searches for an excuse. “I was looking at the birds nesting on the roof.”

“Stadiums don’t have roofs, Suzy.”

“I mean, the, ah, broadcast booth. You know, where they do the announcements and stuff.”

“Uh, Suzy, I’m going to take a break and hang with the girls for a little while? Do you need anything?”

“I’m...fine. Did anyone tell you how nice you look today?”

“That’s sweet, Suzy. Now if you excuse me—?”

“Sure.”

Tracy walks toward the bench to a chorus of snickers.

“Looks like ah little Asian’s got huhself a front row seat.” Joanie smirks. “She’ll be dreamin’ ‘bout dat for at least a week.”

“Front row seat? What are you guys talking about?”

“Sorry.” Joanie waves her hand dismissively. “A little inside joke we’ve got goin’ for ah while now.”

“Care to bring me up to speed? A team can’t keep secrets from each other, you know.”

Asha throws a facetious glance Joanie’s way.

“Let’s just say Suzy has a thing for the ladies.” Joanie snickers.

“That’s puttin’ it mildly.”

Tracy scratches her head. Suzy’s gay?

“So Suzy likes girls, big fucking deal. We’re all adults here…or soon to be adults, anyway.”

“Do you know what happened to the other girl, the one you replaced?” “No.”

“Suzy was carryin’ ah fiah for heah. I mean this girl was fine, a Greek gahddess almost. Lahn story short, after starin’ at her partner’s ash for thirty daze or soah, she makes up her mind to cohnah her and let the lass know how she really felt. The girl was shocked, naturally, and complained to the coach. Suzy got a verbal wahnin’, but that was about it. The girl quit a week latah, ‘bout the time you came on boah’d.”

“Touching story, is there anything else you want to add, or is this show and tell day at the track?”

“It gets bettah. Word is she’s got heah sights on a certain member of the track team.”

“Who, me? That’ll be the day.”

Asha grins.

“No telling how many times she’s oogled your ass. She likes you, Tracy.”

Tracy chuckles. Suzy, infatuated with her? That’ll be the day. The coach blows the whistle and they all file out of the stadium, towards warm water and a change of clothes.

Tracy spends the majority of her time trying to figure it all out. What does Suzy see in her, other than just another girl with melons and peaches? As they walk towards their respective cars, a sheet of paper flutters in the breeze. Tracy snatches it up, the pasty lettering catching her eye.

“Grades got your goat? Tests bustin’ yer balls? We got the cure for what ails ‘ya! 669 Brementon Ct. Norwood, GA., Friday, 9 PM. Come for the party. Stay for the damnation.”

She exchanges looks with the other three.

“I haven’t been to one of these in like, ever.”

“What’s tha matteh?” Joanie asks.

She snatches it out of Tracy’s hand.

“Whoa. I don’t know about yah, but I could use a little relief, if you know what I mean.”

Suzy shakes her head.

“I hate those things! Give me the creeps!”

“What’s wrong, afraid of a little noise?”

“Not just the noise! The alcohol, the drugs—”

“The sex.”

Suzy glares at Joanie.

“How did sex get into this discussion?”

“Why’d yah have to be so negative? You only live once.”

“C’mon, Suzy.” A flicker of adventure flashes in Tracy’s eyes. “It’s not like the coach will be there.”

“Well, I guess, but what will I tell my mom and dad?”

“Anything you like, except the truth.”

It is not at all what she thought it to be. Polished wood, skylights, actual bathrooms instead of buckets to pee in, a complete one-eighty from the nightmares in her head. She expected a shack, or a just a tarp in an open field. Not a big hulk of a cabin, complete with all the trappings and amusements that many come to expect out of rugged living.

Raves have come a long way from being held in underground shitholes. She stored that nugget of information inside her brain for later as she glides into the home, linked arm-in-arm with Hank. Music blares from mounted speakers as they step gingerly over crushed cans of Bud and Molson Ice.

“What you doing walking in here? This ain’t a prom!” An auburn haired young woman greets her. “Take your jackets off! Make yourselves comfortable!”

“Sorry. I don’t get out, obviously.”

“Hank? Do you mind if I take your jersey, please?”

Tracy blushes.

“Forgive him.” She yells. “He’s suffered a concussion.”

“Oh. I hope he recovers.”

“You know him.” Tracy places a hand on his chest. “Takes a licking and keeps on ticking.”

She glances around, taking in the dark stained chairs, the exquisite mantle, the exposed wood beams. She stares at a long, narrow corridor in the background. There must be five, six rooms down there, and no telling what else above her head.

“This must be a mansion.”

“The owner’s from Texas.”

“Ah. That explains everything.”

The young woman places her jacket in with the others on the couch, running around busily. Tracy watches her, impressed by her speed. Reckons she’s a waitress back home, probably the greeter who holds the doors in one of those expensive restaurants in the nice section of town. Tracy pities her, never having a minute to herself all night. Good money, though.

“What are you staring at me for? Get lost!”

They do just that, Tracy guiding her boyfriend as they navigate the teenage wasteland with the care of HAZMAT experts at an EPA Superfund site. She raises an eyebrow at the site of a stray bra, her imagination running wildly. She catches a snatch of conversation in the living room, clipped sentences and anxious words drifting from a drafty room.

“Yeah, she’s here.” The woman whispers over a cell phone—or is it a walkie-talkie? “Both of them are. What do you want me to do? Okay. But I warn you, it’s a big house and—you mean you already know? Well, from the looks of it they’re headed Angela’s way. Should I call her? Have it your way, then. Bye.”

Tracy pauses, a fearful sensation flooding her stomach. She chalks it down to nerves, the anxiety of having to meet hundreds of new people in a single night. She grabs a knob, expecting it to be locked. Surprisingly, the door swings open, revealing a half nude girl with strawberry hair and breasts that would make even Tracy jealous.

“Come in.” She says in accent that suggests Berlin-by-way-of-Southern California. “We were just finishing a game of strip Twister. The beer’s in the keg over there.”

Tracy sits Hank down and draws a pint into a plastic cup, surveying the tangled bodies scattered across the anteroom, juniors, seniors, freshmen, passed out in every conceivable position that nature and man can fathom. All that bending around must’ve left them pooped.

“Who’s winning?”

“Well, it’s me, naturally.” The pert woman tosses her hair. “The name’s Angela.”

“Well Angela, I’d join you, but...”

“What’s the problem? Scared of a little competition?”

“I smell a challenge.”

Angela pushes several exhausted contestants off the mat, clearing the way for battle.

“You and me, right here, right now.”

Tracy gulps.

“Okay, but on one condition. Hank gets to be the score keeper. Do you mind, Hank?”

The challenge begins, the two of them maneuvering their bodies as Tracy twists her arms and knees in an effort to keep up with the Frank’s tortured gymnastics. Articles of clothing are slowly cast off, first shoes, then sweater...

She stands in her underwear, bra lying by her feet. How’d the hell did she expect to beat a minx that smooth? Angela cracks her knuckles, giggling.

“I guess that makes me the champeen.”

“You won fair and square, Angela—“

The Frank runs her hand through Tracy’s hair.

“How do you do it?” She asks. “I mean, mine is great, but yours is to die for.”

Tracy’s nostrils fill with the aroma of passion fruit and dates. Her brain tingles. She stands still as Angela caresses her earlobes, twirling an earring between her fingers, her breath tinged with beer.

“These are beautiful. Where did you get them?”

“Yard sale.” Tracy laughs nervously. “Can we go now? Where are my jeans?”

“Fuck if I know. Mind if I make a call?”

Tracy shrugs. She pulls Hank off the couch, only to have him slump back down, snoring. Resigned to being alone for the first time in the evening, she wanders upstairs, her footsteps reverberating through the house. A figure stumbles out of the shadow, slight but not unattractive.

“Tracy...”

“Suzy? Are you drunk?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are Joanie and Asha?”

“Who knows?”

They pause, staring at each other awkwardly. Rings of raven hair fall around Suzy’s face as a shaft of moonlight piercing through a window illuminating her unkempt curls. They share a conspiratorial giggle, bonding over sisterhood and disheveled dos. Tracy stifles a yawn.

“Well, don’t we look like such monk—“

Suzy throws herself on her friend, kissing her neck and cheek.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

Tracy freezes in shock as hands explore her body, Suzy’s tongue exploring the ridges of her teeth. She pulls herself away, full of embarrassment and surprise.

“Suzy...”

Before she can get her bearings, her track partner pulls her tighter, suckling a breast. Tracy moans involuntarily, which only encourages Suzy’s explorations. Suzy teasingly circles a nipple with her tongue, breaking away every so often to gaze dreamily into Tracy’s widened eyes. If Tracy doesn’t do something fast, this thing is going to get out of control.

“SUZY!”

The noise startles the track star.

“What’s wrong? I thought you were enjoying this.”

“It’s not that.” Tracy pulls away. “I know your secret.”

Suzy covers her mouth in shock.

“But how did you? No one knows about that. Not my parents, not the coach.”

“Joanie and Asha know. They know about what happened with you and the other girl on the track team, the one who quit. How you snuck up on her. Is that what you were doing when we were washing off that day? You can tell me.”

Suzy cranes her head.

“It was just an accident. It was almost time to go and you were...”

“I know.” Tracy nods. “Go on.”

“I heard a noise that sounded like moaning. I thought that someone was hurt. I was going to run and tell the coach, but something told me to check it out on my own. That’s when I saw the back of your head. I’d seen a lot of women naked, Tracy. But you were...you’re...different somehow. I felt like you were, I don’t know, a kindred spirit?”

“How long have you had feelings for me?”

“Since the beginning. You won’t tell anyone, right? No telling what would happen if Mom found out. Dad doesn’t seem like the type who would care, but Mom’s one of the strict types like you read in the Amy Tan books, real conservative. She’d have my ass out on the street quicker than a pimp in Chinatown.”

“Don’t worry, Suzy. Just promise me one thing.”

“No problem, Tracy. Anything you want.”

“Look in my eyes, Suzy, and repeat after me. I, Suzy Lu, love Tracy Elgin, and Tracy Elgin loves me. We love each other as friends, as track partners, as sisters even. But I am not sexually attracted to Tracy, and Tracy isn’t attracted to me. In no way, shape, or form will I make a pass at her at any time. If anyone even suggests so, I will report the matter directly to my friend, who will take it to the appropriate authorities. Is that clear?”

Suzy nods, slumping to the floor in a deep sleep. Tracy scoops her up and ducks into the foyer, covering her friend with a blanket as she closes the door softly. She continues to roam around the house, intoxicated with alcohol and adventure. As she opens a door, she spies two figures lurking ominously in the curtains. Instinct tells her to turn away and find Hank, leaving the party without a fare thee well. Yet in her haze and confusion she forges on, tossing caution to the wind.

The two figures step forward wielding what appears to be pistols, looking stiff, anxious, and anything but friendly. Electricity surges through her body as she collapses to the ground, groaning. She catches a glimpse swimming in her field of vision, blonde locks visible in the evening light. Tracy gasps.

Colleen.

“It serves you right, you thief.” She whispers as Tracy fades into unconsciousness.