The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Synapse

“There are five on the inside,” I said into my comm. “They’re scared.” I moved my hand off the warehouse wall and ducked around the corner. I hadn’t sensed any guards, but if bullets started flying, I was the least likely member to survive it.

“Just five?” Bastille asked in her thick French accent.

“Inside is vague,” Korporeal said, ignoring Bastille per usual. Korporeal’s gone for a bit of a Southern white girl vibe today for reasons no one but she understands. I was willing to bet she had a date tonight. God, I hoped it took her out of the base.

“’Lon?” Surya asked over the comms. Her rich and calming voice with her Indian accent normally calms me, but I could feel her flying a hundred feet above the warehouse. The wind rippled over her skin and her stomach dropped as she occasionally dipped closer. We’d seen no sign of guards in the warehouse, which was not like Hauzer. She was more of a seven hundred guns kind of villain with a posse that used grenade launchers like sidearms, hence the caution.

“On it.” Eidolon’s voice came out as a whisper.

“Just a peek. Don’t infiltrate yet,” Surya warned. “It’s probably rigged to blow.”

Oh, right. The explosive fetish. Another reason to inch towards Hauzer, even when she’s kidnapped half the city’s major media executives in a weird hostage situation. Weird because, you know, no ransom asked for, but hostage because of kidnapping and innocents and all. Three CFOs, two CEOs, and one CTO all were taken from their bedrooms in the middle of the night. Stealth was not Hauzer’s M.O., as evidenced by us finding her base in three hours. Our guess was she wanted some kind of showdown with us. I swear it’s on every villain’s bucket list to kill Aurora Flight. I know we were only a few years out of being a junior team, but we were legit now. The League even recognized us as equals on paper if not in truth. Why couldn’t they go bother the Boulevard Boys? They were practically more of a boyband than a super team.

“While we’re waiting,” Io said. “Some idiot has a cellphone in there.”

Surya chuckled. “One of the —”

“Patching in,” Io said. Our comm feed was filled with faint static and the voice of someone talking into the phone with a thick Boston accent: Hauzer.

“I know they’re here,” Hauzer said.

“One is in the wall,” said another voice. It wasn’t one I recognized, but Io was definitely recording this. She’d run it through voice analysis later.

“That ghost cunt,” Hauzer growled. “I told you I could have set —”

“Wait …” the stranger’s voice warned. “They’re listening.”

“Cut the feed,” Surya ordered.

The static cut out, and I felt the surge of adrenaline rush through my teammates. My knees buckled as they tended to do before a big fight. If I wasn’t in the thrill of the moment with them, four adrenaline spikes at once were a bit much for a human body to take, even a super one.

“Calm,” I said into my comm. “You all feel like rookies.”

“That’s not fair,” Io said. “Kori hasn’t been a rookie in like a year.”

“Fuck you,” Korporeal snapped.

“Let’s go,” Bastille said. “You heard there are no explosives.”

“Wait,” Surya warned. Aurora Flight doesn’t technically have a leader, but you’d have no idea if you looked at our press. Every photo shoot had Surya dead center with her long black hair and glowing fiery eyes. They used to beg her for a little bit of her radiant power, but once she burned out several grand worth of equipment on accident, and now they just photoshop the glow in afterwards. I think — well, I sort of know — that all the press has gone to her head.

“’Lon?” Surya asked.

“No guards,” Eidolon said. “But she does have, you know, guns.”

“Of course she does,” Io sighed.

“This doesn’t feel right,” I said. “I can’t feel Hauzer.”

“What do you mean?” Bastille asked.

“I mean, I can feel five — five and not six — hostages and Eidolon inside there. I don’t have Hauzer.”

“You sure?” Korporeal asked. “Are you too far —”

“Hauzer lights up like a Christmas tree,” I said. “She’s like an addict in withdrawal.”

“She knows we’re coming,” Io said. “She’s probably taken a precaution against your powers.”

“But not Eidolon?” I ask. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this does,” Surya said. “But she knows we’re here. May I please, please, go save some people?” She was met with silence on the comms. “Bastille?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“Smash and grab?”

Bastille sighed. “I’m going to get shot, aren’t I? Can’t you blast off the roof and —”

While they debated entry points and tactics, Eidolon stepped out of the wall in front of me. Well, technically, her shadow stepped out of the wall, extended on the pavement from the warehouse to her full silhouette. Then, emerging from it like stepping out of shower, Eidolon was in front of me. She gave me a sad smile, and I returned it.

Eidolon was a member of the class of supers whose powers took a heavy toll on them. She was a thin and wiry girl — looking eighteen even though she was twenty-three and older than me. Stepping through shadows and between the physical world sort of stunted her growth in one capacity and sped it up in another. She had pale skin a goth girl would envy, but in full daylight it was easy to see that it had gone past creamy milk to an almost sallow gray. Her hair had gone a pale gray too, almost silver. But her large violet eyes reminded you of her age, even when everything else was mismatched. They were adorable but tired: the eyes of a hero who had given her innocence to saving others.

I was immediately washed up in her constant melancholy now that she was this close. I tried to guard myself from others’ emotions as best as I could. People didn’t like it. To them, it felt too much like reading their mind. But Eidolon always had a surge of relief when I shared her sadness, and that was worth it. I don’t get this connection rarely, though my body is clearly designed to be in link with whomever is around me.

“What did you see in there?” I said.

Eidolon shook her head. “Mostly empty. Lots of weapon’s stations around. Good lines of sight if she wants to shoot us, which she will.”

I nodded.

“This doesn’t feel right,” I whispered.

Eidolon sighed. “When does it ever?” She turned back and looked at the building. “A madwoman takes five people for some twisted reason.

“Six people,” I corrected, but she kept rolling. Her frustration was always fascinating. Korporeal and Surya loved the hero gig, but it was clearly burning some of us out. It was easy to forget we were young, that seven years ago we formed as a junior team and our biggest hope was our own reality show.

“And for what?” Eidolon said. “To kill some superheroes? Imagine the trauma these CEOs will have while Hauzer makes her point. Meanwhile,” Eidolon sighed again. My skin warmed as I picked up her frustration. “Our friends are arguing like co-workers trying to do a project together.” She shook her head and looked back at me. “Dark world.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Do it, Io,” Surya said.

“Roger, taking down the power and doors.”

“Oh Lord,” I said. “We’re going in.”

“Not us,” Eidolon looked back at me. “Not yet.”

“Hostage duty,” we both said at the same time. Technically, Io was in our hover jet, safe and sound. Even then, her electric pulses can deflect bullets or short circuit plenty of nervous systems. Bastille was essentially a human tank, and Surya was a sun goddess. While Korporeal didn’t like the cameras to catch it, she could be a housefly in one breath and a wooly mammoth in the next. They did the fighting. Eidolon walked through walls, and I … felt things. We weren’t high priority on hostage jobs.

Eidolon gave me a sad smile that I returned warmly. “Over here,” she said and started to walk me around to the edge of the building. I felt a surge of fear as Io cut the power to the building. Just five surges. Still not Hauzer. Why couldn’t I feel her? And where was the sixth hostage?

As soon as the power went off, the building was rocked with an explosion from one of Surya’s sun-bolts. From there, Bastille would rush in and take any fire while Surya and Korporeal went to find Hauzer and take her out. Io would coordinate while Eidolon and I saved the hostages. I calmed them. That was my major contribution to the team.

“Ready?” Eidolon asked as she pressed her hand against the warehouse door.

I shook my head.

Eidolon gave a small laugh. “Me neither.” In a blur, the color of the world faded away. Everything went black and white until it lost differentiation in shade entirely. The world wasn’t dark; it was a miserable and eternal gray. I could see, but there was nothing to existence. Then all at once, the world went black and white as the shapes inside of the warehouse appeared. Slowly, color came back too.

The only consolation — though it saddened me — was that Eidolon felt the same surge of nausea and terror that I did. I guess you never get used to that.

But that faded as adrenaline hit me. This time, my adrenaline spike accompanied the rest of the team as gunfire filled the warehouse and blasts of searing sunlight cut through the walls and flooring. Around us were three older white guys and two middle-aged women. They were terrified, and I had to close my eyes and clench my jaw to keep myself calm. Emotions were infectious enough, but you could usually use logic to push through them. But I couldn’t trick my brain into believing there was nothing to be afraid of like it was a small toddler. There was something to be afraid of.

“It’s okay,” I said and reached out my hands. “Take my hand.”

They hesitated before reaching out to me. It’s not that I blame them. Eidolon looked like a ghoul in a black cat suit, and I was … well, I was never quite as flashy as my teammates. They say it’s the Tennessee in me, but all the skin some supers showed made me uncomfortable. Besides, too much touching my skin can make my powers go into overdrive. No, I wore purple for the neuron and brain power theme (which my agent insists is good for branding) with a gray off theme. My suit covered everything but my fingertips and palms with some fingerless glove effect at the end of the sleeves that I thought was pretty slick. The suit even had a turtleneck like vibe to give me coverage everywhere to protect me from unwanted triggers. I guess the worst part about being a giant human nerve is being a giant human nerve. Other than that, I kept things simple. No utility belt or body armor. I guess the one legit power I got was pretty tough skin, even if it wasn’t Bastille levels of invulnerability. I could survive a car crash pretty much guaranteed, maybe even without a seatbelt.

Not that I would try that.

But it probably wasn’t my suit that made the hostages look at me funny. No. It was the hair. Solid and royal blue my whole life. I guess the powers came with it, but against my olive complexion, it stood out. You’d think it’s 2022 and people can have their hair be whatever color they want, but growing up in the South, blue hair is a cry for attention I never wanted. I’ve tried dying it blonde, but no luck. The stuff resists hair dye like I resist car crashes, I guess.

Two men got over the shock of my appearance and touched me. I got flashes of their wives and children. Their lives were passing before their eyes. One was afraid to die with so much regret. The other was afraid of all his secrets coming to light. That would hurt his family more than death.

My body shook as it took in all the information they were sending out. To replace their emotions with my own, I had to be a mountain against their tornado. If I wavered slightly, I would be overcome. Bastille trained to be a hero by bench lifting freight trains. I did yoga and meditation and tai-chi and journaling and read my Bible and prayed and ate healthy and got plenty of sleep. I had to be an emotional ocean so that none of their storms could seriously rock me.

Eidolon grabbed the hostages and made them touch me. They were worse. The panic was on an animal level. I thought of a bear fleeing from a forest fire. No. A squirrel. They’re dread was dangerous. They would be the kind of person that would trample a child to run from a burning theater.

I took a deep breath and centered myself. As my therapists taught me, I imagined an open field filled with daisies. I imagined myself as a young girl, back in Tennessee. I imagined running through the fields feeling like the entire world was a playground, like the entire universe was a gift for the sole purpose of my joy and pleasure.

I hummed a worship song that always centered me, imagining the words floating around me in the field. “Oh take me back, back to the beginning. When I was young, running through the fields with you.”

I don’t know if God is real or not, but her joy is the only way I can center myself enough to calm five strangers in the middle of a warzone. I feel like a fount of kindness, patience, and grace. Nothing can hurt me.

Safe. The universe is safe.

A smile washed over my face, and I watched with true delight as it spread over the other hostages. I looked at Eidolon and smiled at her.

“Let’s go,” she said. “One at a time.”

Eidolon made quick work of ferrying the souls out of the building while I moved through the corridors and kept low to dodge random gunfire. Hauzer was on the second floor, firing at the team from the catwalk. She unleashed the whole clip of whatever gun she could find, dropped it, and ran off to another weapon to fire at the team. She knew enough not to bother shooting at Bastille, and she tried to keep her distance while staying under cover from Surya. But something was wrong. This was too easy. Normally there are bombs and hostages with explosives strapped to them or legions of hired thugs. This was a thoroughly normal and deranged woman trying to fight off three supers. She didn’t have a chance.

And I still couldn’t feel her.

There was some look in her eyes that bothered me as she ran from spot to spot. Normally Hauzer had a wild mania or look of absolute glee in her eyes. The woman definitely had a fetish for guns and got off in some bizarre way when firing them. And I mean got off on it. In a typical fight, I could feel the arousal in the most disgusting and bizarre way imaginable. But Hauzer’s face was calm and focused while she fought Aurora Flight. Was this a trap? Some bizarre suicide attempt? Did she want to go back to prison?

Before I could figure it out, Korporeal changed from a spider hiding behind Hauzer into a gorilla. She wrapped her arms around the villain and changed some of her torso to include octopus tentacles that kept binding Hauzer. Her lower body turned into a python for good measure and began the slow act of constricting and restraining the wild woman. Korporeal looked like some bizarre new form of chimera, but Hauzer didn’t have much chance of getting away unless she —

An explosion rocked the building, sending Korporeal and Hauzer flying away from each other. The comms crackled and buzzed in my ear while Surya tried to figure out what happened, and Bastille frantically called out for Kori. I got up to run in and help when I heard creaking and looked up to see the ceiling of the small room bending down and about to snap and —

Fire, debris, and hot steel fell towards me in a way that looked much more dangerous than a car crash. I tried to cry out, but before I could get the words out of my mouth, all color faded from the world. The fire turned from a burning white to a bland gray, and then there was nothing but a universal absence of shadow and shape.

The press was huddled around the police line trying to get a comment from one of the hostages, but once Surya landed with Io, they swarmed them like flies.

“Here they go,” Eidolon sighed as she handed me a cup of tea. I was in the back of an ambulance with the other victims, but I was fine. Honestly. Eidolon got to me before the building collapsed on me. We got the innocents out. It was a big deal for Aurora Flight. And the best part — if you asked Io — about saving millionaires and celebrities was the press it brought. Press meant donors. Donors meant the base stayed open, and we could afford Io’s tech or Bastille’s 8,000 calorie diet to be impervious to nuclear blasts.

“Don’t act like you wish you were them,” I muttered and took a long sip of tea. I could feel the heat of Eidolon’s frustration, but I also know the feeling of her embarrassment and awkwardness when too many people looked at her. She always plays with her hair and —

“But it’s not like they saved the day. They beat up a villain that was practically begging for it.”

“Yeah, about that —”

“Hey, darlings.” Korporeal walked around the corner of the ambulance and sat nearby. “Mind if I share some trauma tea?” She had switched to deep brown skin and long kinky hair and a bayou accent from Louisiana. It was pleasant to the ear, like a good scratch.

“Sure,” I said. I motioned for her to sit next to me, and she did. Korporeal always intimidated me, and it wasn’t the constant shapeshifting. Other people tried to hide their emotions — especially people who knew how easily I could pick them up. But Korporeal never did that. It was like she wanted me to know exactly what she was feeling. Or worse, when she looked into my eyes, it felt like she was daring me.

“You alright?” she said as Eidolon handed her a cup of tea. “Close call.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Stupid of me to go in.”

“They wouldn’t have gone without you,” Bastille said as she rounded the corner. “Fear makes people stupid.”

“Easy to say when you have nothing to fear,” Eidolon said. “And no one to fear you.” She let her eyes drift away from Bastille, trying to diminish the comment. Bastille had cornflower blonde hair, green eyes, freckles, and the most adorable French accent in the world. She wasn’t the bombshell that Surya was, but if there was ever a super-model super team (I can see the reality show taglines now), she’d be the first person they called. She was wiry and elegant. There was an effortlessness to her. I guess her skin made her impervious to breakouts and blemishes too. In fact, I’ve never seen her wear makeup. Girl just wakes up like that.

I put a hand on Eidolon’s shoulder and sent some comfort to her through the touch. Some people have all the luck when it comes to powers, and no one knows that more than Eidolon. The warmth of the tea drained out of me as I gave her what I could. I shivered, and she gave me a look, knowing what I’d done.

“You should take it easy, tonight,” she warned.

“Yeah.” I probably needed a night in my room. After all the emotional chaos of the day, an evening with my paintbrush and some empty canvas was the only way to recharge. That and barbecue. I think I’ll order out and —

“Well, you ladies know I’d love a delightful book and some bourbon and two pizzas,” Bastille said. “But I’m the bearer of —”

“No,” sighed Eidolon.

I lowered my head in defeat. “A party,” I said. Normally we get a day or two before someone wanted to thank us with a soiree filled with potential donors.

“Io just told me,” Bastille said.

“The CEOs we saved,” Korporeal added, “want to thank us. With their contacts we could —”

“Let them throw us a party tomorrow.” The heat of Eidolon’s anger spread through her and over my skin. “Aren’t they traumatized or something?”

I stretched my senses out to answer her question. I was weighed down with Bastille’s fatigue and Eidolon’s disappointment. Korporeal — on the other hand — was downright giddy and something else. There was some heightened physical sensation in her body I couldn’t sort out. But around the corner, I could sense the CEOs and CFOs. They were rattled for sure, but there was something off there. A strange calm that wasn’t there when we went to save them. Did I do that? I’m not that strong. Lord, it felt like they’d taken something. An EMT wouldn’t give them morphine, would they? It felt like they were high.

“There’s another person missing,” I said.

“Yeah,” Eidolon said as she pointed to me. “We have work to do.”

“The FBI is working with the police to find Ms. Sanders.” Elizabeth Sanders was the CTO Hauzer supposedly kidnapped and was conveniently missing from the warehouse.

“So they’ll just call us when it’s time to get shot at,” Eidolon snorted. “Perfect.”

“So we’re going to party while other people play hero?” I asked.

“We’re going to relax,” Korporeal said. She leaned in close, and I felt a strange pressure build around my breasts like they were stiffening but not quite. What the hell was —

“I sure wish Ms. Sanders could relax,” Eidolon added.

“Listen,” Bastille said. “It’s been a long day. Synapse almost died. We should all blow off some steam.”

“Parties are not how Synapse likes to —”

“I know,” sighed Bastille. “But it’s a PR thing now. Io and Surya say we’ve got to. Think of all the other people we won’t be able to save if we don’t have funding.”

“Besides,” Korporeal added. “It’ll be fun if you give into it.” She smiled wide and her eyes flickered to a chestnut brown, her true eye color. “I’ve even got a date.”

“Of course you do,” Eidolon said. “You’ve known about this party for ten seconds and you already have a date.”

“Hey,” Korporeal snapped. “He’s cute. He owns some chunk of the internet or something. It could be great for the team to have a contact like that —”

“Oh don’t act like you’re whoring yourself out for the team,” Eidolon snapped.

“’Lon,” Bastille warned.

“What did you say?” Korporeal hissed as a forked tongue sliding out of her mouth and long viper fangs dropping down.

The noise of them was too much. There was frustration, anger, and resentment and somewhere in there the sticky feeling of arousal. Bastille was resigned but also saddened. I almost felt a thought — which has to be really loud for me to pick up on it — about quitting the team. Eidolon was tapping into a decade of bitterness when it came to Korporeal that was quickly building into a grudge against everyone that wasn’t me. Korporeal was defensive but there was a strange self-loathing mixed in it, as though Eidolon had stepped on an insecurity. Around the corner, one of the reporters was desperate for an interview with Io, as though it would save her family. Another reporter had a sick kid, maybe? It was loud, so loud.

I stood up and walked away from the ambulance, taking another sip of tea as the buzzing of Eidolon and Korporeal’s bickering faded away. Bastille called out my name, and then some reporters turned and latched their attention on to me. It faded quickly, as I was the least interesting member of Aurora Flight. Amongst homeschool families and evangelicals, I was a poster child of a hero, but ever since Aurora Flight stopped being a teen sensation and started trying to go pro as an adult female team, the press wanted looks like Surya, Bastille, or Korporeal or they wanted brains like Io. Being the team “feeler” didn’t sell.

Surprisingly, the chaos of the press conference and the frenzy of questions was calmer than the fight between Eidolon and Korporeal. I sighed with relief and kept sipping my tea as they moved on from asking about the rescue mission and went to their default questions we never answered.

“How’s the dating life, Io?” Someone shouted. Io laughed and ignored the question, pointing to someone else who wanted to ask about her thoughts on African American running for the Senate in Georgia. Io was mixed, but most questions about her were about her Blackness. If they knew she was asexual, that would be all they asked.

“We’re too busy saving the world,” Surya said to cover.

“And what about you, Surya?” asked the same reporter. “Any lucky girl caught your eye?”

Surya shook her head.

“What about a member of Aurora Flight?” asked the same douchebag. I wasn’t the only one who felt Surya’s frustration. The sky darkened a bit as she drank in the sunlight and let her eyes flare bright.

Surya smoothed her expression and reclaimed her poise, but the anger boiling under her was like lava. “The girls in Aurora Flight are sisters to me,” she said. Unlike Io, she was out to the world. She had a whole sappy interview with Oprah over it. Korporeal did the same thing five years ago when she came out as pansexual. It helped our image to be the most diverse in race and orientation of any other super team out there, but it also left me with a dozen questions to answer anytime I went to a Christian conference to promote the team. Some people thought I should try to convert them and heal them. They, unfortunately, were idiots.

“You know,” Io said to save the moment as usual, “we’re having a party tonight at the Borealis. Maybe Surya will find a great girl there.”

Everyone laughed, and Io reminded them of a charity she runs helping improve STEM teaching and resources to low-income schools. She orchestrated the press like a conductor, and Surya stood silently, not wanting to run away and burn things in a rage because she’s our “leader” and has to look responsible.

I sighed — it seemed that everyone in Aurora Flight was doing that a lot lately — and tried to step away. Tony, our agent, was talking to Korporeal about the details of the party and going over a guestlist. Eidolon was nowhere to be seen, and Bastille smiled at me. If I were anyone else, she would wrap me in a hug and hum some Parisian lullaby, but she knew better. I could do it if I braced myself, but I didn’t have the energy to put up shields right now. I just needed a bath and some oil paints. I’d be fine.

Probably.

I should have known better. Young and wealthy men wanted to throw a party with the best-known all female super team. Of course they were going to turn the Borealis, our base, into some kind of weird club or rave from the nineties. There was no peace. There was no quiet. There were eight dozen strangers all pressed in our hangar (Io parked the hover jet on the roof), bright neon lights, a DJ (or two?), and alcohol. Lots of alcohol.

The worst part of alcohol for me isn’t that drunk people are stupid and annoying — though they are. It isn’t that I can’t drink or else my shields will drop, and I’ll feel every touch and emotion in the building like I’m strapped to a table, and everyone is running their hands over me. It isn’t that alcohol tends to make everything loud and turns the unfunny into stupid hilarious. The worst part is that I can feel it. All of it. I can track it through the stomach and into the blood. I feel it affect the mind. I have a perfect before and after picture of a person, knowing full well what they would have done if it weren’t for the alcohol and what the booze tricked them into doing. And at parties as large as this, with as much booze as this, it’s almost like I’ve had a shot or two myself.

Two hours ago, Tony knocked on the door to my room and disrupted my painting. He told me as politely as possible that I needed to come out and schmooze with the wealthy and drunk for the good of the team. There were some photo ops we couldn’t pass on. Also, apparently Korporeal’s date did own a good chunk of the internet. He wanted to meet the whole team for a while, so I had to hang out with them.

I thanked him for telling me and kindly told him I needed to rest to save human lives, not play nice for cameras and billionaires that think they can buy me.

Tony’s a good guy, so I didn’t blame him for sending Io to get me. She started with the usual tactics that it would only be for a little while and then reminded me that the team needed money, goodwill, and influence in political spheres to do what we do. Congress wasn’t sure they were alright with supers, and only our popularity with the people protected us. That means good press was as necessary as food and water. When I couldn’t be persuaded, her warm smile died, and she coldly reminded me that I was contracted to attend official Aurora Flight events. So Eidolon and I mingled and stuck to the shadows for an hour or so until Korporeal found us.

I did not need my powers to know how hammered she was.

She was stretched out over some young twenty-something Norman Bates kind of good-looking guy. The other girls were around her, and when she saw me, she shrieked (literally shrieked) and bounced up to hug me.

“You’re heeeeeeere!”

“Yeah,” I said while muffled by her breasts. Apparently Korporeal was going for a six-foot-something Amazonian goddess for this evening’s party. “Here I am.” She was wearing a dangling piece of cloth that was covered in pink sequins and barely covered her breasts and exposed her lithe and tight stomach. A mini skirt that was more of a hand towel wrapped around her plump hips was the only other thing covering her body besides heels with straps that wound up her leg and over her calves.

“Let’s get you something to drink.”

“I don’t want to drink.”

“Nonsense.” Korporeal turned around and waved over her boy-toy. “Charles, get her a drink.” Charles stood up and slid his hands in his pockets, clearly as bothered by her drunkenness. “Oh, who am I kidding?” Korporeal stepped back and slapped her hand against her forehead. “Charles Lindner, this is Meeeee-Synapse! Greatest feeler in the universe.”

“That’s me,” I said, holding up my hands and wiggling my fingers. “Catchin’ the feels.”

Korporeal laughed obnoxiously, and Charles smirked in a distractingly handsome way. He was clean shaven with mahogany brown hair that was perfectly swooped and coiffed to look effortless but wasn’t. He wore a blue sweater over a shirt and tie — which looked a bit much in our random club/rave atmosphere — tight khaki pants and clean brown loafers. I’m sure somehow it all cost ten thousand dollars, but he looked like a jock that went fraternity then graduated to business school and golf courses on Daddy’s money.

I wanted to hate him.

But I couldn’t feel him.

It was Hauzer all over again.

Before I could say anything, he offered his hand for me to shake. The pulsing of the music was like background noise compared to all the feelings in the room. Sense of touch, alcohol, taste, lust, sleepiness, fear, joy, giddiness, horniness, loneliness, all of it choked out the air in the room, but Charles was a perfect void in front of me, like he was a cutout from the universe, an emotional and sensory void.

Automatically, I took his hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. My voice was quiet. Or maybe the music just made me feel it that way. Or maybe the noise of the room.

No. Not the noise. Something in it shifted. It didn’t dim down exactly, but it became less chaotic. It was precise. It wasn’t a wave of lust so much as a specific heat between Korporeal’s legs. It was Io’s boredom with us and her desire to move on to a better and more serious team. It was Surya’s ego burning brighter than the sun. It wasn’t just the fatigue and frustration of Eidolon but her deep loathing and resentment of everyone. It was Bastille’s slow disconnection from not only the hero game but human connection in general as though her emotions were as impenetrable as her skin. It was the sweat running down a dancer’s thighs. It was the fingernails digging into Eidolon’s palm. It was that strange pressure building in Korporeal’s breasts. No. Not pressure.

Piercings.

“Uh, I’m going to need my hand back,” Charles said.

I looked down and realized I was still holding his hand. “Oh, right!” I said and giggled.

Giggled?

“Right. Sorry.” I pulled my hand away and ran it over my thighs. My palms hurt and were sweaty. The room was fuzzy and warm, and I think my vision was going blurry? I took a step back away from Charles and the room spun like I’d had too much to drink.

Korporeal swooped in and grabbed my shoulders to steady me. There was some kind of feedback loop as I felt her touching my skin through my mind, and I felt her touching my skin through her mind. I felt her touching and the feeling of the touch, and it cycles in on itself until her touch was electricity and lava and ice and … erotic.

Korporeal closed her eyes and moaned as I bit my lip to stifle my own pleasure. I staggered back and looked around to see who was watching. But no one was bothered by Korporeal moaning after getting drunk. She hit on everybody and flirted relentlessly. People thought Korporeal was sexy because she could become anyone’s fantasy with her body. But the truth was that Korporeal liked sex more than anyone I knew — more than anyone I’d heard of.

“Oh you naughty girl,” Korporeal said. She stepped closer — uncomfortably close — to talk to me over the music. “Did you send that to me?”

“What? No.” I tried to step back but the room spun again. Something was wrong. I was sick. I don’t know how it came on so quickly but —

“That wasn’t me,” Korporeal said. She bit her lip and bounced up and down with excitement. “I guess it was both of us, wasn’t it?”

“Um … I guess. Yeah.” I put my hand to my forehead to try and center myself. I couldn’t get the world to stabilize itself. It was like I’d had as much alcohol as everyone in this room combined but it wasn’t in my system poisoning me. It was just the euphoria and disorientation surging through me.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Korporeal leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “That’s kind of hot.”

The feedback loop started again with her warm breath on my ear. I shuddered, as I felt her feeling what I was feeling, amplifying the sensation as she sent it back to me. Korporeal staggered forward from the rush and gripped my shoulders to center herself, but her fingertips were light and soft. Her skin was heaven, and her skin on my skin feeling her skin on my skin was more than either of us could take. I failed to stifle my moan completely, and Korporeal arched her back to let the entire room know she was turned on. We both broke away with our chests heaving from the crippling pleasure that just rocked through us.

“Shit,” Korporeal said. “Where have you been my whole life?”

“I — I — I —” I looked back at Eidolon who was staring at me like I’d lost my mind, which I guess I had. “I don’t know what’s happening.” The lights of the room blurred together into one overbright tapestry of neon watercolors. “I don’t feel so well.”

“Hey,” Korporeal said and stepped closer again. “I think Charles wouldn’t mind if we had a bit of company for tonight.”

“What?” Why was she talking to me about Charles right now?

“You know, for a little three-way fun?” She looked back at him, then back at me. “Don’t worry, with your magic feedback touch, you’d have all my attention. He’d just be there to get something between my legs you know?”

“What are you talking about?”

Korporeal giggled, and I found myself giggling along with her. I don’t know why. I didn’t find this funny, but I couldn’t help myself. “I bet if he fucked me, it’d be like he fucked both of us, right?”

“Kori, I don’t feel so —”

Korporeal ran her hands over her own chest. When she touched her nipples and the piercings, I had to hold onto her to keep from collapsing. The neon colors of the party turned to a painful and searing white as the pleasure ripped through my body like a tornado through an old book. Korporeal’s knees dipped too as I sent the pleasure to her — if only because there was so much of it that had to go somewhere before I exploded. I didn’t know how I was doing it, but in that moment, I was feeling as though my nipples were pierced and I was completely smashed, and I was touching myself, and Korporeal was feeling the same things, and I was feeling her feeling it, and she was feeling me feeling it, and it was all too much for either of us to handle.

I think for a moment I blacked out.

But when I opened my eyes, Korporeal and I were on the floor giggling while Eidolon and Bastille were hovering over us, asking if we were alright. Neither of us could handle human speech, and I heard Eidolon say something about taking me to bed before I felt the strong hands of Bastille pick me up. Her hands were cold, and though my body accidentally sent the sensation back to her, she didn’t respond. I felt the alcohol in her system and the lingering sadness in her chest, but I couldn’t feel her skin, which I guess meant she couldn’t feel her skin either. It wasn’t always like that for her, but it’s not like I regularly monitored how sensitive everyone’s skin is.

That stirred me out of my drunk-ass reverie.

“You okay?” I asked as Bastille carried me to my bed.

“I should be asking you that,” she said in her French accent.

“Yeah, I think I’m just tired. I can’t control my powers.”

“Then let’s get you to sleep.”

“Everyone’s drunk,” I said.

“Not everyone,” Bastille said with a sad smile. She placed me on the bed and tucked me in. “Get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I sat up. “The picture. I need to be there for the photo op and —”

“If Tony doesn’t understand that you get a pass when you’re sick, I’ll shave his stupid mustache by plucking one hair at a time.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time, ma cherie.” She kissed me on the forehead and walked away, turning off the lights and closing the door behind her.

But despite the darkness, the world wouldn’t go away. I don’t know why my powers were going haywire, but I could still feel everything going on inside the Borealis. Eidolon was leaning against a wall, drinking something strong and bitter. I’d expect her to sit in the shadows, but she sat under a lamp, preferring light. I could feel her fear of the shadows creeping towards her, of accidentally losing all color in the world and slipping into that dismal in-between place. I felt Surya’s frustration with my failure to be there for pictures, and Io’s warmth as some donors promised to support us for another quarter. I felt people dancing and grinding on each other. I felt horny men looking for some vulnerable girl to take to an unoccupied room. I felt tight women making sure they had mace in case one of those men made a move. I felt them all in their sweat and debauchery, in their fear and anger, in their pride and lust, in their gluttony and greed, in their ambition and cruelty, in their joy and alcohol, in their freedom and delight, in their pleasure.

All that pleasure.

But there was one spot burning bright in the house, calling out to me like a beacon. It was upstairs and across the hall. Korporeal’s room. It seemed her moaning in public gave clear signals to Charles. I assume they were both sweaty, feeling the hot breath of their partner on their necks, but I still couldn’t feel Charles. He was a void like Hauzer running his hands over Korporeal’s hips. So it wasn’t them together that lit up the night, it was Korporeal alone. Her pleasure was an inferno, and after decades of being out in the cold, I was drawn to it. Maybe it was the latent effects of alcohol infecting me from the party, or maybe it was simple curiosity and boredom. It might have been jealousy or the need to finish what Korporeal started in me. Whatever it was, my defenses were down. I spent years trying not to feel everything in every person around me. I tried to respect their privacy. I tried not to let their sensations spread to me to keep my sanity.

But this time I wanted it.

I reached out to Korporeal with my mind and slipped into her nervous system like a hand into a glove. Before I knew it, Charles wasn’t running his hands over Korporeal, he was running his hands over me. He peeled my flimsy top off and the cold made my pierced nipples stiffen. I fumbled for the door handle, and he pushed me through. We stumbled through the dark until soft fabric was over my back, and the weight of him was on my lap. He bent down and his warm and wet tongue — strong and long — was pressing against my pierced nipple and wrapping around it. My back arched as the lightning of pleasure coursed through me. My hips rolled into him, and he knew I wanted it. My body was opening up, begging for him to be inside of me.

In my bedroom, I closed my eyes and reached down to peel off my pants and panties as Korporeal did the same, taking her tiny skirt off our body and pulling aside the thong we chose just for this. Charles didn’t hesitate, I couldn’t feel him, but I imagined the animal lust of a strong man. The kind of hunger to dominate and take, and Korporeal and I both wanted to be taken. We wanted to put down the hero game for one night and let someone else win, someone else could be strong. We wanted to be broken and splayed for him, filled with him, pierced by him, and fucked stupid.

“Yes,” I whispered as my hands went to my eager clit in my bedroom. Whether at my bidding or not, Korporeal did the same and teased our clit while Charles eased himself inside of us. I cried out in the darkness as I suddenly had two clits, both of them teased at the same time. Then Charles was inside us, and we spread our legs wide to wrap around him. Our skin was hot and sensitive, eager and supple. Charles gave us a few gentle thrusts, and then he picked up speed, ramming into us as our heavy and pierced breasts flopped with each blow.

In my bedroom, I clamped my hand over my mouth as I shrieked and moaned into it. I couldn’t stop myself from being loud as Korporeal and I both screamed with pleasure. But this was new. I was saving myself for marriage, and while I technically didn’t have a man inside of me, I now knew how good it felt to have him take me and break me, to feel my whole body open like a flower while he filled me with nectar.

My hand moved faster, and I think I passed it along to Korporeal despite our incredible distance. My powers were out of control and stronger than they’d ever been before as Korporeal felt herself have two teased clits and fucked pussy sent back to her, giving her the sensation of four clits and two fucked pussies. Of course, I felt it too, and with some sadistic and playful part of me, some hungry part that just wanted to orgasm and get back at Korporeal for a thousand playful flirtations and awkward conversations, I sent the feedback back to her. Until our entire bodies, our entire beings, were clits teased with slicked fingers and pussies fucked by Charles. Korporeal’s scream ripped through the house like she was dying, and I brought my hand to my mouth to silence my own screams.

Then Korporeal did the same, bringing her own hand to her mouth to silence her moans, and I couldn’t tell if she wanted to do that. Finding the desire was like looking for a needle in a haystack that’s been sent flying through the air by a twister. But she did what I did, matching my pace and energy as we played with our clits, spreading her legs to match me in my bedroom as Charles fucked us harder and harder, gripping the sheets and twisting them around with our free hand while Charles had his threesome and was never the wiser for it.

Korporeal and I came at the same time, and the orgasm was unlike anything we’d ever had. Like before, we might have blacked out in the feedback cyclone of her feeling my orgasm and her orgasm at the same time. I don’t know where the world went or who I was anymore, but in a moment, the world went from searing white to absolute blackness as our bodies chose to override our brains, and we were both forced to the blissful unconsciousness of sleep.

Hauzer

I wasn’t used to the kindness of the FBI when you don’t actually kill anyone. Sure, a few hostages and a lot of gunfire, but I should remember for next time that if you keep the body count low — and mysteriously lose one of your hostages — the FBI will find you a nice room and interview you for hours with genuine respect instead of the bashings and beatings I’ve got in the past. The only good news was that the Girly Flight hadn’t taken me into their custody, though of course that’s what the boss said would happen. She was eerie about making her promises come true, but I wasn’t paid to question her.

Come to think of it, I wasn’t paid at all.

The door to the interview room opened up, and I smiled. “Got my coffee there, Special Agent Dank?”

But instead of the balding white guy I’d been chatting with all day, the boss walked into the room. She wore leather pants, a black tank top, and a black leather bomber jacket. She had olive skin and chestnut brown eyes with long legs and an angular and severe face. It was all a little goth/biker girl for me, but what stood out was the bright blue hair. It was long and vibrant, reaching halfway down the tall woman’s back. I’m not sure how I knew, but something about the coloring told me it wasn’t dyed. She didn’t seem like the kind of bitch that went to the salon.

She waved a hand and baldy came in behind her. “Sorry about the misunderstanding, Hauzer,” he said as he went behind me and undid my cuffs. “Our mistake.”

“What?” I asked, but the boss had a cruel smirk of amusement on her face. “I mean, uh, right. Your bad. Shame on you stupid feds.”

The boss rolled her eyes, but baldy said, “Right, our bad.”

“Let’s go,” the boss said. Her voice was soft and silky, almost girl-like. It made the hairs on the back of my neck standup. The boss reached behind her own neck and scratched it, then raised her hand over her head and yawned while she stretched. “We’re out of time.”

“Time for what?”

“Everything’s working. I’ve found her and confirmed she’s ready.” Her smile spread in a way I definitely didn’t like. “Time to set the trap.”

“Another one?”

“Sadly yes.” The boss motioned and my legs walked me ahead of her and out the room. “And you’ll have to be bait one more time.”

I sighed. “Alright. Just one more time.”

“Yes,” she said, and I felt her amusement more than saw it. “Just one more time for you, my toy.”