The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Tracy stares at the blinking cursor on the computer screen, trying to collect her thoughts. The report is supposed to be due by noon, but its half past ten and she hasn’t even started yet. How is she supposed to write an environmental impact statement on the psychological effects of the building’s acoustics, when she’s spent the past ninety minutes doing anything...but? At this rate, she’ll be lucky to get out at ten.

Damn that online solitaire.

That doesn’t include the stack of textbooks on her desk, thesis notes scribbled in the margins of a legal pad. Pulling double duty had never been her intention when she took this job. Now she has to juggle the roles of professional psychologist, researcher and grad student all at once. Not to mention her assumed role as would be spy and confidante of one of the most despicable criminals to grace Boston in at least thirty years. Despite having spent the majority of her waking hours doing little more than working and composing her final paper, she is surprisingly alert—more alert than an average person in her position might be.

She glances at the red flashing LED light on her newly installed office, blinking fiercely in the corner of her vision. She waits for the blinking to cease so she could get back to what she should really be doing. After several seconds of annoyance, she picks up the receiver, annoyed at the intrusion.

“What is it?” She barks.

“Are you always like this in the morning?” Frank’s growls. “How much sleep have you been getting?”

“Four or five hours.” Tracy mumbles. “After six I leave for the gym, shower at home, eat a little bit of something and spend the rest of the night studying and preparing my thesis. I get up at six in the morn and get ready to do it all over again.”

“Does your advisor know?”

“No.”

“Call him and tell him you’re taking a break from school or something. I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“It’s too late for that. Besides, it doesn’t work that way. There’s paperwork, exit counseling, not to mention student loans.”

“But you’re a valuable member of our team.”

Tracy resists a chuckle.

“How could I be a valuable member of the team if I’ve only worked here two months?”

“You can see things, do things that other people can’t.”

You got that right she thought to herself.

“There’s something I want to show you.” Frank cuts to the chase. “Meet me in my office ASAP.”

As she walks toward the elevator, she wonders what in blazes could possibly occupy her boss’s mind at this hour. Well, besides the obvious. She anticipated that he’d fall under her spell the moment they locked eyes, but this is fast even for her. Not even Hank succumbed so quickly and even then he was cute, in the way a pug might be. Frank is more between a terrier and a pit bull—loyal but aggressive.

A little too aggressive but there’s no controlling for the effects of mind control once the earring’s magical powers takes effect. Male, female, it doesn’t matter who is attracted to her. It is predictable in its unpredictability. She’d seen that with Hank and Suzy—one a drooling zombie, the other a confused, sexed up virgin. Now she has her cranky, lewd boss around her finger. It’s not unlike a magnet—the earrings pull whoever’s nearby into her orbit—and sometimes the results could be, well, a mixed bag. Of nuts. Or vaginas.

It pays to have an open mind.

Striding toward Frank’s office, her curiosity gets hold of her. What could be so important that he’d make her drop everything she was doing and waltz in the office? A coffee errand, Xeroxes that need to be faxed, a little mid-morning quickie? She gently raps on the door to Frank’s office, prepared to expect anything.

“About time.” Frank forces a file into her hand. “I got a job that’s right up your alley.”

Tracy leafs through the sheet of papers inside. Most of them appear to be appeared to be peppered with psych jargon, oblique references to codenamed projects, employee evaluations. Whatever this is sounds serious enough. Why bring in a newbie? A photo of a woman with a shaved head stares back at her, her eyes empty as ever.

Tracy glances at Frank, a look of incredulity in her eyes.

“I don’t see the connection.”

“See that woman there?” Frank retrieves a cigar from a zip bag in his desk. “Went AWOL a few weeks ago in the middle of an assignment; haven’t heard from her since.”

“What’s the big deal?” Tracy shrugs. “Fire her.”

“If you read the file, you’ll realize it’s not that simple.”

“Let’s not and say we did.” She drops it on his desk. “Just tell me the truth.”

Frank sighs.

“Think of her as a private investigator of sorts. Like Thomas Magnum, or Cagney and Lacy. Anyway, she was real deep undercover trying to obtain trade secrets at a rival company.”

“Corporate espionage?”

Frank nods.

“So what happened? Did she just walk away? Did she leave a note?”

“What do you think?” He chortles.

“What do you want me to do about it? I’m only one person.”

“Read between the lines. Maybe you’ll find something in there that’ll tell us something about her whereabouts. Lord knows we can’t.”

“That’s a lot of confidential information.” Tracy gazes out the window. “What makes you think I won’t tell the competition?”

“Because you won’t.” Frank shoves the file back towards her. “Now if you excuse me, I got a conference call to attend to.”

“I just have one question.” Tracy pauses as she walks toward the door. “Why me?”

“Because I trust you.” Her boss gazes longingly into her eyes. “I have to.”

Back at her office, Tracy gleans through the thin report, trying to make sense of her newest assignment with little more than hearsay and third party speculation to go on. Yet each time she comes back to those empty eyes, seemingly devoid of any emotion. Her gut tells her there’s more to this woman’s story than Frank is letting on. Barring any further data points, there isn’t much to say. But for the time being all she has to lean on is a picture is and a number: 023980.

While her would-be captor struggles to ascertain her whereabouts, Tracy’s quarry strolls through the windy city streets with her hands in her pockets, no more closer to understanding the events of the past few days than she was when they occurred. Flurries of snow litter her body. She pulls the hoodie over her head, taking solace in what little warmth it provides. Children play haphazardly in the distance as she struggles to navigate the snow-packed roads, seemingly confident of not getting hit by an errant truck or automobile. Their voices carry through the chill air.

023980 pauses, lost in thought. She could still see the raven haired man playing over and over in her mind. To think, he was within a hair from death, and yet he’s walking around all because of her. It should never have been, and yet it is. She had every opportunity to kill him.

She didn’t.

Why 023980 chose to spare his life remains a mystery. In that split second of inaction, she’d defied her programming, defied Frank, defied the only family she knew and loved. She existed to serve and obey. What is she now, but a warrior without a lord to serve?

“Are you okay, lady?” A young boy asks. “You know the bus doesn’t run today, right?”

It dawns on her she’s been standing in front of a bus stop for at least ten minutes. Where did the time go?

“Thanks for letting me know, kid.” 023980 acknowledges him.

“Mommy says people like you belong in Bellevue.”

023980 rolls her eyes.

“Me and everyone else in this town.”

Images flit through her brain as she walks past him. Scenes of her posed provocatively with a group of men... A reflection of her standing in front of a bathroom mirror, her nakedness exposed to the world, another scene of herself strapped to a bizarre looking chair. A phone pressed against her ear, a business card with Matt’s name on it, and as always the fiery haired woman swishing her beakers proudly...

023980 snaps out of her reverie, startled to discover her standing in front of the Globe’s offices. She wonders if the images mean anything, or if they’re just products of her subconscious. One thing’s for sure: she has an aching need in her pants. She scurries off towards the nearest hotel, eager to relieve herself of her burden.