The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Beamont University

One Month Later

“…and as you remember from Chapter Four, ant colonies are considered eusocial organisms,” Professor Webster droned on, his warbling voice amplified by the lecture hall microphone. “The activities of every ant is assigned by the queen, which is why no ant can truly be considered an individual. From this week’s reading, you will recall that…”

Seven rows back in the auditorium seating, Reilly Bartlett sighed. It was only three weeks into the semester, and already the beautiful young sophomore regretted taking Biological Ecosystems as her General Science requirement. As an Electrical Engineering major, Reilly was hoping to complete all her General Ed electives before the advanced EE courses got really difficult.

“…so it is indeed the queen ant who dictates the colony activity,” Webster drawled. “But is the queen herself an individual? Here, there are many divergent scientific theories. In their 2003 study, Beckes and Throughood proposed…”

Reilly lost concentration. Professor Webster’s monotone voice seemed designed to hypnotize her into a zombielike state. Reilly went back to doodling tiny ants on the edges of her notebook.

As she did, the young women crossed her long runner’s legs. The young men on the end of her aisle stole glances, admiring Reilly’s sleek thighs and calves. Even in her high school-era jean shorts, tie dye BEAMONT UNIVERSITY tee shirt, and plain red ballcap, she was still very pretty.

Reilly was lean and muscular, with well-developed muscles in her legs, arms, and shoulders. Her waist was especially thin, as she liked the cardio exercises like jogging and StairMaster, exercises that burnt away any belly fat. (Reilly never had any.) Her neck was long and swanlike, which accentuated her thin face, tiny nose, perfectly-formed lips, and large, expressive eyes. Reilly’s lengthy brown hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail, which playfully draped over one shoulder.

“…and of course, Blanchett, Kallan, and Stiener hypothesize that the queen ant merely reflects the cumulative thoughts of her colony…”

Sitting next to Reilly was her best friend, Breana Phillips, also a sophomore. Like Reilly, Breana (“Bree” for short) had also thrown together the simplest possible attire for classes: concert tee shirt with a ripped-out neck, skintight leggings, old flip-flops, and her sandy blonde hair tied in a sloppy ponytail. Like Reilly, Bree’s natural beauty and alluring figure were easily appreciated by the watching men. As usual, Bree had failed to notice that her tee shirt was slipping off one shoulder, and her black bra strap was showing.

Reilly was tempted to let her friend know about the visible underwear, but decided against it. She and Bree had met in Freshmen Orientation, and had clicked right away. Reilly liked Bree’s outgoing style, her Boston brashness, and her hotheaded aggressiveness. Bree was a Journalism major, and Reilly thought that Bree’s combative personality would serve her well in that field.

“Oh no, she didn’t…!” Bree suddenly muttered in disgust.

Reilly glanced over at her friend. Bree was on her phone, her Biology notebook set aside and completely blank for today’s lecture.

“What is it?” Reilly murmured.

Bree was reading her texts. “Oh, what fucking nerve…!” she growled.

“What???” repeated Reilly.

“…communication between the queen ant and her drones is a fascinating topic. Many myrmecologists believe that the drones are purely reactive to the queen’s dictates…”

“Ugh, its Sydney,” Bree muttered with disgust. “She’s gone all Alpha Bitch again. Goddammit.”

Reilly sighed inwardly. She and Bree were both sisters at Phi Delta Sigma, one of Beamont University’s larger sororities. Sydney Lazaro, the object of Bree’s ire, was also a Phi Delta sister, a junior. Neither Reilly nor Bree liked Sydney all that much; Sydney was the bossy older sister who thought she should be in charge of everything. Apparently Sydney’s mother and older sisters had all been Phi Deltas back in the day… or something… and Sydney falsely believed that their legacy gave her special powers.

Reilly scowled, sketching another ant. “Ugh, what’s Sydney done now?”

“She’s called a Sister’s Meeting,” reported Bree, scrolling furiously. “For tonight! Fuck. She won’t say what the meeting’s for, of course, ’cause she loves the suspense. Ugh, Syd’s invoked the Phi Delta charter, and now the meeting’s mandatory.” Bree snorted in anger. “Goddamn her. I was gonna study with Tyler tonight.”

Reilly frowned slightly. Tyler was Bree’s current boyfriend, and Reilly didn’t approve of the match. Tyler was too girl-crazy, always staring at other attractive young women on the Beamont campus. He stared at women even when he was with Bree! Tyler’s skeevy roommate, Justin, was even worse.

“What time is Syd’s meeting?” Reilly asked.

“…of course, the queen ant uses her inclinations to gather and direct the hive however she sees fit…”

“Nine PM,” Bree replied with annoyance. “Sydney’s scheduled her meeting for nine fucking PM! That control freak bitch. She really thinks she’s the Princess of Phi Delta Sigma. We gotta complain to Devyn about her.”

“Okay, calm down,” muttered Reilly. Devyn Hammill was Phi Delta Sigma President this year. Complaining to the president about a fellow Phi Delta sister was a serious matter. “Uh, did you take your OCD meds today?”

“Yes, I took my meds.” Bree gave Reilly a knowing look. “I’m just sayin’.”

“Sayin’ what?”

“That something’s gotta be done,” vowed Bree. “Sydney’s seriously gotten out of control. Remember last year? She put us up for that Godawful bikini car wash fundraiser. And then that stupid Halloween theme party we hosted was her idea too. And she wanted to make the whole sorority go to her fave Key West resort for Spring Break! She wants to control everything. She’s gonna ruin this year too, if we don’t stop her.”

Bree was getting a little hyperactive. Usually the best way to calm her down was to ignore her obsessiveness. Sighing, Reilly decided to focus on Professor Webster’s lecture.

“…which is why, class, you will have an opportunity to explain the queen’s process of colony direction in today’s quiz.”

Reilly’s ears perked up. Did Webster say there was a quiz today? Oh, damn. She really needed to pay closer attention.

“Meeting, meeting, meeting!” Sydney Lazaro happily cried out, clapping her hands on each word. “Com’on, sisters, we’ve totally got a meeeeeeeting!”

It was nine PM. Along with a hundred of their fellow Phi Delta sisters, Reilly and Bree tromped into the living room of the Phi Delta Sigma house. The house was one of the many fraternity and sorority houses that lined Washington Ave, at the northern border of Beamont University’s main campus. Like most of the Greek buildings, Phi Delta was showing its age; everywhere you looked, you saw cracking drywall, peeling wallpaper, water stains on the cobwebbed ceilings, floorboards that were slowly warping after decades of age. One could only guess at what the carpets’ original colors once were.

The living room was hot; the Phi Delta air conditioning was out. All the living room’s couches, easy chairs, and end tables had young women sitting on them, so Reilly and Bree would have to squat down on the floor, along with over half their sorority sisters. It was crowded. All about, women were chatting quietly, loudly arguing, or fanning themselves. Everyone looked miserable. Sydney stood tall before the group, standing tall upon a pair of plastic milk cartons, just before the living room’s giant flatscreen TV. She looked proud as could be.

The TV was on, with the sound muted. Currently, the local news broadcast was up: TECH ROBBERY AT WDL LABS was the headline at the bottom of the screen. Reilly could see a pretty reporter chatting with a Florida State Police official from the parking lot of a gray office building. The police official wore a stern expression.

Ignoring the TV, Reilly and Bree squeezed into a tight floor space. This sandwiched the two best friends between two more of their sisters, Madi Reed and Cici Owens. Madi, one of Phi Delta’s heavier girls, was munching on a bag of Doritos.

“Hey there Mads,” Reilly said, hugging her legs into her body. Already, she was beginning to sweat. “You got any clue what Sydney’s meeting’s about?”

“No clue,” admitted Madi, popping a chip into her mouth. She offered the Doritos bag to Reilly. “Waaan ’un?”

“Thanks, no.”

“Maybe Sydney’s gonna start a petition to get the fuse box of this old dump upgraded,” growled Cici. “Did you know that the power went out three times today? That’s why the fucking AC’s on the fritz. The groceries in the refrigerators are probably ruined.”

“No, chicks! I’ve thought it over,” Bree declared. “There’s only one fucking reason Sydney would dare call a sister’s meeting. Zeta Pi Beta is throwing a Halloween kegger, and they’ve signed Audio Domination. Sydney must want to throw a competing party.”

At the mention of Zeta Pi Beta, many nearby sorority sisters sneered with distain. Zeta Pi was Phi Delta’s old rival, and the rivalry ran deep. Zeta Pi was where most of Beamont University’s cheerleaders pledged, and therefore they had more money and much more pull on campus. Reilly charitably thought that the Zeta Pi’s were a hive of snobby bitches.

Not wanting to stir up Zeta Pi hatred, Reilly decided to steer the conversation. “What’s Audio Domination?” she asked.

“Audio Dom? Oh, I know them!” A young woman directly before Reilly swiveled around to join the conversation. “They’re this guy band out of Tampa. They’re bodybuilders and they play guitar with their shirts off. Hot.”

“Ugh,” was Bree’s opinion. “Zoe, you really need better taste.”

“No, Audio Domination is hot,” Zoe responded, stung. “That reminds me, Cici: Can some of the girls and me borrow your car this Saturday? Audio Dom is playing the Rager’s Club.”

“You can’t have my car!” Cici retorted. “Girl, you never put gas in it and you can’t parallel park worth a shit.”

Zoe looked as if she’d been slapped. “Cici, you really should goddamn share your stuff more,” she shot back, angry. “You’re always so suspicious of the rest of us.”

Before a full-scale fight broke out, the television turned off. There was a loud clapping from the front of the living room. All sisters looked up at Sydney, who was calling for order.

“Ladies, ladies!” Sydney cried, her smile bright and wide. “Its tiiiiiiime, ladies! Its totally time! Pipe down, okay?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, bitch,” Bree muttered softly.

Reilly could feel Bree’s anger. Bree had an obsessive side to her personality, and sometimes Reilly feared that Bree couldn’t keep that part of herself in check. Bree’s resentment towards Sydney was a prime example.

Reilly was no Sydney fan, either. Sydney was a natural platinum blonde, with effortless beauty in her complexion and slender, tennis-sculpted figure. Even when she so wanted to punch Sydney right in her stupid face, Reilly did have to admit that Syd was the ideal Greek sorority sister: perky, cheerful, enthusiastic, always positive. Sydney’s family was wealthy, so her outfits were always in fashion. Even now, with most of her sorority sisters wearing tee shirts and old shorts, Sydney wore a stylish pink minitop with matching skirt. The outfit exposed plenty of toned midriff. Sydney always wore at least one item that was hot bubble gum pink, always. Her long hair was perfectly combed, as always, Marsha Brady style. Somehow, Sydney looked completely unbothered by the heat.

“Oh man, here we go…” grumbled Madi, and crunched another Dorito.

“Mm-hmmm,” Bree growled in agreement.

But all conversations in the living room died down. The sisters of Phi Delta Sigma glared at Sydney.

“Great, wonderful!” Sydney glowed, clearly relishing being the center of attention. “Like, I’m totally glad you all came, ladies. You totally won’t regret it.”

“Oh my Godddd…” Bree muttered, in a voice so low that only Reilly could hear her. “Kill me now…!”

“Now then,” beamed Sydney, “I totally know what you all are thinking, right?”

“Why the fuck is the A/C broken?” shouted out Melanie O’Neal, a junior.

Sydney waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I’m sure that’ll be fixed,” she trilled. “Now then—“

“Hold it,” barked Leyla Goddard. Leyla was a very pretty redhead who was chair of Phi Delta’s Social Committee. “Sydney, how can you call a Sister’s Meeting without any advance notice, huh? I got things to do. I’m supposed to be in Women’s Glee rehearsal right now.”

“Yeah!” several of the sisters bellowed. “Yeah, yeah!”

“Fuckin’ A!” added Bree.

Again, Sydney was unimpressed. “Oh, this is totally more important,” she assured the crowd. “Totally more important.”

“Yeah?” challenged Leyla. “Devyn, what do you think?”

Now Devyn Hammill stood up, not far from Sydney’s position. All eyes turned toward her.

“C’mon, Dev,” Bree muttered angrily. “Slap Sydney down, will ya?”

Reilly liked Devyn Hammill, Phi Delta’s current president. Although Devyn was a senior, she was perhaps the physically smallest member of the sorority. The black-haired, petite woman was quite pretty, even though she rarely bothered with makeup or fashion.

Devyn was also not someone with whom you wanted to mess. While she looked small and harmless, Devyn had grown up in a rough Queens neighborhood. She could swear like a pro rapper and had an even more explosive temper. Devyn had been elected president not because she was popular, but because she knew how to knock heads together to get things done. In Phi Delta, this was a critical skill.

Looking deeply annoyed, Devyn folded her arms over her small chest. “Yo,” was all she said.

“Dev, how come freakin’ Sydney can call a mandatory sister’s meeting out of the blue like this?” demanded Leyla.

There was a chorus of angry “Yeah!”s from the assembly. Bree actually applauded.

“Its because Sydney’s family is Grand Legacy,” Devyn replied, her lip curling. “The Lazaro family donates ten thousand dollars every year to the Phi Delta Sigma Foundation, which is a real shitload, right? So we fucking humor Sydney if she wants to call a fucking meeting. Okay?”

“Thank you, Madame President,” Sydney said gaily.

“Don’t fucking let this go to your head,” Devyn warned Sydney. “Say what you have to say, then shut the fuck up.” She sat down again.

“Of course, of course,” Sydney promised, unphased. “Oh, that Grand Legacy mention reminds me… I’m totally reserving the Baxter Room for myself this year.”

Around the living room, jaws dropped in shocked indignation. The Baxter Room was really a miniature bedroom suite, up on the Phi Delta House’s fourth floor. Contributed to the sorority by Sydney’s family, the Baxter had a bedroom, study area, kitchenette, and most coveted of all, a complete bathroom and shower. In a house with over one hundred women under its roof, that bathroom was envied by all.

The howls of indignation grew, but Sydney waved them all away.

“Oh, ladies, its totally not a big deal,” she chided. “Besides, when I share with you what I have today, you’ll all be so totally excited. And you’ll see why we may never have to worry about funding the Phi Delta Foundation ever again. Isn’t that great?”

“Sooo… you have another idea for a fundraiser?” Bree called out, her voice suspicious.

“Not exactly,” admitted Sydney. “But what I have is better, totally better!”

She raised her hand, and now the Phi Delta sisters could see a black remote control within her fingers. The giant TV lit up.

On the great screen, a dozen beautiful young women (wearing only bikini bottoms and very tight tee shirts) were frolicking on a wide lawn. The women were laughing and bouncing up and down; it was obvious that not one of them was wearing a bra. Dance music played on the soundtrack.

A particularly gorgeous blonde approached the camera. “Hi, hi, hi, I’m Ashley!” the blonde giggled, waggling her shoulders. “And welcome to the season superfinale of AHSH!”

Multiple gasps of horror rose up from the Phi Delta women. Madi Reed almost choked on a Dorito. Reilly nearly vomited.

“OMG, America, you have no idea how much fun it is to be… America’s Hottest Sorority House!” Ashley sang. She began dancing about, and the camera zoomed in on her barely-clad breasts and rear end. “Wheeee!!!”

“America’s Hottest Sorority House?” cried Leyla Goddard, leaping to her feet. “That jiggle show??? With that old dude, Dave Silvers???”

“Ewwwwwwwww!!!” wailed Reilly and about fifty of her sisters.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” said Sydney, dramatically rolling her crystal blue eyes. “Like, look at the big picture, okay?”

On the TV, Ashley and the other barely-dressed co-eds were now rehearsing a hip hop dance routine, still clad in their tight tee shirts and bikini bottoms. Their dance involved a lot of hip movement and chest-shaking.

“Oh, fuck no!” Bree angrily called out, joined by many others. “Fuck no!”

“AHSH is sexist trash!” shouted Cici Owens.

“It’s the Patriarchy’s wet dream!” Zoe agreed. Reilly was fairly certain that Zoe was a Poli Sci major.

“No! No, it totally isn’t,” scoffed Sydney, pressing PAUSE on the remote. The TV image froze, capturing Ashley and her friends in mid-gyration.

“You want us to be like… like… like those bimbos?” Leyla Goddard practically screeched. “Lookit those chicks, they look like they dance at a strip club!”

“They do not dance at a strip club,” frowned Sydney, offended. She nodded at the screen. “That girl in the center? That’s Ashley Mullins. She and I were in Collegiate Honors Society together. Ashley’s on the Dean’s List, and she’s studying to be an AI engineer. Her sisters in Omni Gamma Rho will graduate to be physicians and lawyers. Those girls are totally legit.”

Reilly scowled, studying the future AI engineers and physicians and lawyers frozen up on the screen. Privately, she agreed with Leyla. The girls up on the TV didn’t strike her as studious at all.

“Listen to me, ladies,” Sydney coaxed. “You know what AHSH finalists get? Do you?”

The Phi Delta sisters hesitated.

“They get one hundred thousand dollars, made out directly to their sorority’s foundation,” informed Sydney. “Plus… every member of the winning sorority gets a one-week, all expenses paid vacation to Las Vegas. Here, look…”

Now Sydney whipped out her phone, tapping away. She activated the Bluetooth connection, and then the television screen changed. Reilly stared.

Now the TV filled with a still image. Reilly could see the women from Ashley Mullins’ sorority, posing for a camera… but now, they wore acceptable tee shirts and jeans. They gathered around in a cluster, joyously posing before the famous “WELCOME TO FABULOUS LAS VEGAS” road sign. One could see the fake skyline of Sin City behind them.

“This pict is from Ashley’s Insta feed,” Sydney informed her audience. “From just last month. Here, look…”

She began swiping her phone, and now multiple pictures flashed across the TV. Ashley and her sisters laughing before the landmark Bellagio water fountains. Ashley and her sisters in a casino, pointing to long rows of slot machines in amazement. Ashley and her sisters all raising glasses at a flashy-looking nightclub. Ashley and her sisters striking a pose before the imitation Eiffel Tower…

“You get it,” Sydney said with envy in her voice. “Honestly, you guys, I think Ashley and her chicks are really, really smart. They flirted with the TV cameras, and what did it get them? Their Omni Gamma Rho sorority house is undergoing major renovations. They had front-row seats to Cirque du Soleil. And their sisterhood’s foundation is fully funded through 2042. They totally rock, if you ask me.”

Reilly could feel a change among her sisters. While there was still resentment brewing, the Phi Delta living room was quieter now. The women were thinking.

Taking advantage of the lull, Sydney switched her phone to a web app, which appeared on the big TV. “AHSH is shooting in the Tampa area this season,” she announced, tapping away. “But the show’s producers are looking at sororities in the Greater Florida area. That totally includes us.”

A webpage for AHSH appeared on the TV. Reilly squinted at the dramatic-looking font:

COLLEGE WOMEN OF FLORDIA!

Want to show your school spirit? Want to earn your sorority house megaprizes? Want to be famous coast-to-coast? Then apply now to compete on AHSH, America’s hottest new reality TV show…

Cici Owens cleared her throat. “So what exactly would we have to do to be on this show?” she asked pointedly.

“Yeah, it would involve work,” admitted Sydney. She gestured around the living room. “We’d totally have to clean this dump up, for starters. But we’d also have to get in shape, like, really get into shape. Everyone under our roof would have to commit to the project.”

Next to Reilly, Madi Reed’s eyes bulged. A Dorito was halfway to her open mouth.

“But don’t worry, ladies,” Sydney tut-tutted. “I totally know the best fatcrushing and muscle building workouts. Totally! And I have some connections in the local gyms. We can all work out together to get our butts in shape. We can totally get there! Dedication is the most important thing!”

“This is so fucking insulting,” Leyla Goddard declared, shaking a little. “You want us to act like cheap, slutty whores on national TV? No fucking way!”

“My mom and grandma marched in Feminist Rallies,” agreed Cici Owens. “Jesus, I can’t do a wet tee shirt contest for money!”

“Fucking A!” Bree cried.

There were more and more heads nodding in agreement with Leyla and Cici. “Yeah…!” more than one sister around Reilly muttered.

“Ladies, its totally totally totally totally, like, no big deal,” Sydney insisted. “For reals, you know why I’ve never gotten a speeding ticket? Why I never wait in the airport security line? Why I get free concert tickets and never pay cover charges at a dance club?” She laughed, flipping her hair. “Ladies, I’m hot. Totally hot. And in America, hot women totally get everything. Totally. All you have to do is know how to manipulate and giggle.”

As she spoke, Sydney arched her back and shifted her slight weight onto one leg, which jutted out one of her hips. Her chest popped up, slightly. As her posture became more curvy, the blonde actually grew more beautiful. Reilly had to admit; she was impressed.

But this display had the opposite effect on her sisters. “No way!” many cried out. “No fucking way!”

“Ladies,” Sydney chuckled, “all I ask is that we just, like, think about it, okay? Look, this is what I propose. Give me a week to talk it over with you girls, like, one-on-one. And then, we’ll do a House Vote. That’s totally fair.”

“I’m never fucking voting for this,” Bree loudly announced. “Never!”

There were more “Yeah’s!” around the sweaty living room.

But Sydney was still confident. “Madame President, can I call for a House Vote?” she asked, smiling down at Devyn Hammill.

Devyn stood again, her small shoulders hunched. “You can only fucking call one House Vote a year, Syd,” Phi Delta’s president warned. “Phi Delta Sigma Charter Rules. You sure you wanna be cashing in that card now?”

“Totally,” beamed Sydney.

Sighing, Devyn turned to the rest of her sisters. “Fine. In one week, we vote. That fair to everybody?”

“No!” shouted a freshman woman from the back of the room. “That TV show sucks!”

“Yeah, well, fuck off then,” growled Devyn. “We all know the Phi Delta by-laws. But be fucking warned, Syn,” she added, jabbing a finger at Sydney, “if we vote you down, no more pulling shit like this again.”

“Of course, Madame President,” Sydney promised grandly.

“Fine,” Devyn scowled. “Then let’s get the fuck out of—“

“Oh wait, wait, wait, wait!” cried Sydney. “I almost totally forgot. Do we have any sisters who are Electric Engineering majors? Anybody?”

Reilly felt her heart cannonball into her stomach. Immediately, several of her sisters twisted around to stare at her.

“Reilly’s an EE!” Zoe foolishly called out.

“Is she really?” asked Sydney, her blue eyes lighting up. She smiled at Reilly as she climbed down off her milk cartons.

Right away, most of the Phi Delta sisters made their escape. The living room emptied out as if it were on fire. Reilly had the urge to flee herself.

“Oh God,” she muttered, grasping at Bree’s arm. “Save me?”

“I so gotta get outta here,” Bree muttered back, pulling out her phone. “Wonder if I can still snag Tyler?”

Reilly swallowed. “But—“

And then, Sydney was standing before the two sophomore women. She took Reilly’s arm, as if they were old friends. “Raaaaaachel!” she exclaimed warmly.

“Reilly,” corrected the younger woman.

“Reilly, of course!” Sydney said, displaying no shame whatsoever. “Its totally so good to see you, girl! Thanks sooooo much for coming to my meeting!”

“It was mandatory,” Bree grumbled.

“But totally worth it,” smiled Sydney. Her Royal Blondness pulled Reilly closer. “Listen, Reils, can I just borrow you for a teensy second?”

“Why?” Reilly asked in alarm.

“So embarrassing,” confessed Sydney with dramatic sigh, “but my idiot boyfriend needs help with his EE lab assignment, and I’m totally sure that you can help him. Come on, this won’t take long at all…”

“I’ll… meet with him tomorrow,” Reilly promised.

“No, he’s at the University of Denver,” pouted Sydney. “We’ll just Zoom with him for a few minutes, I promise, I promise. And I’ll totally pay you for tutoring him, of course. Come on…”

And with that, Sydney pivoted and propelled Reilly towards Phi Delta’s grand staircase.

Reilly threw a panicked look over her shoulder at Bree. But her best friend was already heading toward the Phi Delta front door. Reilly was trapped.