The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Eidolon

After a long day with doctors, the FBI, the CIA, Homeland Security, an interview from some snooty asshole representative from the League, and listening to the FBI and CIA argue with each other endlessly, no one wanted to listen to a run-down meeting with Io. Hell, I don’t think Io even wanted to give a whole speech about how we fucked up, but we’ll do better tomorrow, and Synapse is going to be okay, and we’ll get her back and a whole bunch of rhetorical niceties and inspirational bullshit that she picked up from whatever self-help book aspiring superhero team leaders study.

Cause seriously, they all pull from the same material.

We wanted showers and sleep. Some of us wanted to hit the gym and see if we could sweat out the frustration. I know Kori and I were both looking forward to a drink or seven (definitely separately after this morning’s debacle, though she didn’t know or understand why), and Bastille would probably sit in her room and stew. To each their own, however we processed it, the problem was the same: we fucked up.

I was left paralyzed in that room watching Kori sleep for a few hours. Then the lights cut out in our room and turned on in the rest of the compound. I woke Kori up (and definitely didn’t mention all the fucked-up shit I’d seen), and we went looking for the rest of the team. I didn’t ask Kori what happened to her, and she wasn’t forced to give me some bullshit answer that wasn’t, “I got seduced by the villain and let her fuck me stupid.”

Luckily, that meant I didn’t need to explain that I watched the villain fuck her stupid and secretly wanted the villain to do more to her. To do worse.

Whatever the fuck that means to my twisted libido and apparent lack of morality.

We found Io unconscious in some kind of command room with the missing CTO, Elizabeth Sanders, and Hauzer. Luckily, we were able to wake Io up, but we didn’t have the same luck with the other two. Hauzer and Sanders were comatose, total vegetables with almost all brain activity fried though their autonomous nerve system seemed to be working fine, keeping them breathing and all that shit.

A few minutes later, Bastille and Surya showed up. One was covered in bruises and the other in burns (which I didn’t think was possible for either of them), but they claimed they didn’t remember what happened to them. No one believed them but considering the level of fucked-up we all just dealt with, we weren’t going to pry (not that the subsequent assholes that spent the rest of the day interviewing us showed the same courtesy).

Here is what we were able to sort out: we were dealing with some mental powered super that was using Hauzer like a puppet and it seemed had the ability to use some of us like puppets (because it was all totally against our will, right?). This same super took Synapse and there didn’t seem to be much of a struggle — which also confirms the mind control theory. Our best guess was that Synapse was the original target because of all the dampening and Synapse protection the super had.

But as for what happened to each of us and the perverted (yet pleasurable) way the villain kept us all busy while she lured Synapse in, we haven’t said a word. Nothing. Barely getting freaking eye-contact. So while the lack of an Io inspirational speech was appreciated, it was genuinely shocking. I didn’t know Io had a sense of shame. Good to know.

But I spent my time trying to find a one-on-one chat with Korporeal. I didn’t know which was more embarrassing for her: that I found her in her true form or that I found her naked. Either way, she immediately transformed into a voluptuous and curvy Black woman as soon as she realized I was looking at her sweaty and used body.

“Hey Kori,” I said as I knocked on her door. “I brought tea.”

“No thanks.” Her voice was soft and frail, not a choice I would have gone with if I could have any voice in the world.

“With bourbon in it.”

The door opened. Kori stood as a tan, white girl with a — I don’t fucking know — basic-ass-Instagram-influencer-blonde-beach-bitch vibe. She was all sun-kissed and beautiful, but she had no make-up on (though she’d chosen the kind of pretty that didn’t need makeup, of-fucking course). All in all, she had the right body to be the sexy center of attention that Kori preferred, but none of it matched her eyes or posture. She looked one second away from crumpling into nothing.

Jesus, how could I have missed how weak she was?

I lifted up the tea. “Want some?”

“As long as it doesn’t entitle you to talking.”

“Me? Talking? Never.”

Kori smiled slightly and stepped out of the way, letting me into her bedroom. You’d think she’d have some posh nonsense with modern furniture and lots of natural lighting for her selfies, but Kori’s room was honestly juvenile. She had pink walls and Christmas lights strung around with posters of celebrities she admired. I tried not to let the overly girly-girl vibe infect me as I sat on her bed, and she sat next to me. She took the cup of tea and took a long sip, sighing as the bourbon burned her throat a bit.

“That’s good,” she said.

“I thought we had a no talking policy.”

“Oh, right.” She smiled at me but went quiet.

We sat in silence. Kori finished her tea and kicked her feet softly. I wasn’t going to crack first. Yes, I was here to talk — obviously — but I hadn’t thought of how to start the conversation. ‘Did you enjoy the way she fucked you stupid?’ ‘Don’t worry, I was desperate to touch myself while she bent you in half?’ ‘You look beautiful in your true form?’ ‘I’m sorry I wanted her to hurt you?’ ‘I’m sorry it turned me on when she did?’ ‘Did she force you like she forced me or …’

Or were none of us seduced at all?

“Synapse was better at not talking,” I said.

Kori snorted. “She cheated.”

“Doesn’t matter. She’s better than bourbon.”

“Don’t knock bourbon.”

The silence settled over us again, but Kori wasn’t opening up, and I didn’t have time to pretend to be a therapist. I guess I just wanted some piece of mind after what I saw, but I don’t think Kori or anyone else was going to give it to me.

“I’m going downstairs,” I said. “I’m going to help Io.” I stood and expected Kori to say one last thing. Maybe she’d encourage me to find Synapse or softly thank me for checking in on her, but the shapeshifter said nothing as I left her room. I couldn’t blame her, and at the same time, I absolutely did my best to fucking blame her.

Io was looking over seventeen different monitors simultaneously when I entered her private “workshop.” Technically, she didn’t look at any monitors when she was deep in the zone. She sent little pulses, and they sent pulses back. I guess they talked like plants or whales or some shit, but either way, Io could do this with her eyes closed and the superfluous number of monitors was just some bizarre flex.

“I’m busy,” she said as I came in.

“I’m here to help.”

“How many databases can you search in a millisecond?”

“Fuck you, that’s how many.”

Io paused and turned to me with a condescending smirk on her grin. “That’s what I thought.”

“Does it feel good to be a raging bitch?”

Io shrugged and went back to her work. “Does it feel good to be absolutely useless?”

“Oh because your powers were just what we needed when we —”

The monitors cut off as Io whipped around. “Look who’s talking. You got trapped by light. Really? We can’t take you out on sunny days now?”

“I wasn’t the one that buffed their security or cut off our coms. Seriously, we could have worked as a team but once again, there was no room for your ego and the rest of —”

“Get out,” she said and whipped around again. The monitors flickered on as she went back to work. I lingered for a second, then with a huff, I stormed out of the room. As I rushed down the hallways to my room, I had the rest of the argument in my head. Each time I imagined it, I tried to steer it back to Synapse and how we can save her and what leads we had and what leads we needed. But no matter how it went, I knew Io was going to make it about she’d figure it out on her own. Then I’d say something bitchy about how she’d make sure the press knew it was all thanks to her that Synapse was back. Then she’d snap about how at least she didn’t watch while Korporeal was …

“Fuck,” I sighed. I stood in front of my room with absolutely nothing to do in there. My crumbling team wasn’t in there. Synapse wasn’t in there. The key to finding Synapse wasn’t there. Neither was the mysterious blue-haired villain.

The mysterious blue-haired villain I couldn’t stop thinking about.

I tried to convince myself that I never told the interviewers about Korporeal’s sexcapades because of Kori’s privacy. Or maybe it was the shame that I stood and watched while a villainess fucked Kori. Or maybe I couldn’t explain the arousal I felt in the light, watching Kori get what she deserved, watching her hurt in the most beautiful way imaginable. Or maybe it was because I didn’t want them knowing about the blue-haired woman. I didn’t want them to find her first.

A new plan formed in my mind, and my body moved as my mind caught up to what it was planning. All I had to do was watch and wait. Sure, most of what Io did was in her head, but the monitors still displayed everything she was doing. I already had a lead — no one else knew about blue-hair — so all I needed to do was extend that lead a bit.

I didn’t cringe at the rush of the Gray over my body as I stepped through the wall and hid myself in the shadows of Io’s workshop. I was too excited, too focused, too … aroused. I can’t deny that whatever made blue-hair compelling was certainly sexual, and the idea of finding her — especially finding her before Io — made me giddy. I didn’t get to say anything to her last time. There was a moment I thought she heard my thoughts, thought that maybe she understood what I felt and desired. If she’s a mental super, that makes sense, so maybe she did hurt Kori because I wanted her to. Maybe it was my fault.

But maybe she’d do it again if I asked her.

While I watched Io work, I tried to focus on the screens, I promise. But instead, Io was in her skin-tight super suit. At one point, she zipped it down as she started to sweat due to the absurd number of computers in the room. The tiniest bit of her neck, her collarbone, was enough to drive me back to familiar fantasies. She was a bitch, and all I wanted to do was to pin her up against the wall and hear her whimper in pain and delight. I wanted my hand on her throat as she begged me to fuck her. Maybe I would. Maybe I’d slide my hand through the shadow, piercing her clothing and slipping inside of her, fucking her in Gray and letting the numbing cruelty of it all spread over her body while I took my pleasure from her, while I dropped her ego a peg or twenty, while I bent her over the workshop desked and fucked her stupid, while the monitors buzzed and blurred as she moaned like a whore in heat, as they switched to softcore porn as she was soaked despite herself, as they went hardcore when I spread her legs to fuck her deeper, all in shadow, all in Gray, all in my world, my pain, my control.

“Yes,” I thought as I touched myself and watched her work, “maybe even Io would get what was coming to her like Kori did.”

Synapse

“Um, are you okay?” said a soft voice next to me. Her voice was slightly accented — German maybe? I tried to open my eyes, but everything was bright. Too bright. I groaned and shut my eyes tighter, tilting my head away.

“Right, stupid question,” said the stranger. “Obviously, you’re not.”

“Mmm,” I said. My mouth was dry. “‘Ater.”

“Right. Right. IVs do no good for a dry throat.” After a moment, a paper cup was pressed against my lips. I parted them and a refreshing cold was over my mouth and eased the soreness in my throat. I dared to open my eyes a second time and was rewarded with less searing pain. In front of me was a tall woman with strawberry blonde hair in a messy bun with wisps floating everywhere. She had soft green eyes and a smattering of freckles, which just proves how tired I was because those stuck out to me before the lab coat, stethoscope, and obvious medical equipment surrounding me and my hospital bed.

“Is this —” No. I was in some kind of warehouse with empty boxes and industrial scaffolding I could see despite the poor lighting. I did the natural superhero thing and tried to sit and strain against whatever bindings the villain had put on me.

But there was nothing.

I shot up and wires popped, monitors squeaked, and my IV slipped out of my veins. “Oh dear,” said the evil scientist, “I wouldn’t —”

But I wasn’t listening to monologues, and I leapt out of bed to get the hell out of —

My knees immediately gave out and I crumpled to the hard concrete floor. There was the sound of laughter, but it wasn’t the slightly accented German laughter of my evil scientist.

It was her laughter.

I looked over to the sound of heeled boots clicking on concrete as the true mastermind approached. As the adrenaline hit me, I realized that I have powers and reached out to numb every sense in this woman’s body.

But nothing happened.

According to my powers, there was no woman. Not the one laughing nor the nervous one trying to help me back to my feet. My senses said that I was alone in the building, that I was alone for miles and miles.

But that was impossible.

“You also notice you don’t have knees,” said the woman in boots. She stopped right next to me, and I braced for either a kick to the ribs or a monologue. She squatted down next to me, but I didn’t dare look up at her. My memory was coming back, and I didn’t want to risk staring into her eyes and having my powers go supernova like before.

“Sorry to cut you off, but I so badly want to talk to you.”

Shit. I hate monologues.

“But in the meantime,” she said as she stood up. “I’ll let you sleep.”

“What?”

“Gretchen, please help her back to her bed. She needs to rest.”

“Wait what?” I said. Gretchen wrapped her arms around me and rose to her feet. Damn, the girl was strong. “Don’t you want to talk?”

“Not to Synapse,” said the woman. As Gretchen helped me up, I saw the bright cobalt blue hair cascading down the stranger’s back as she walked away from me. “Never Synapse.”

“Molly?” said a voice from across the house.

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. In a rush of panic, I checked the alarm clock to see if I was late for school. I wasn’t. I sighed with relief and sank back into the pillows. “Praise God,” I said and closed my eyes. “More sleep.”

“I think it’s Saturday,” said a voice next to me. It was soft and silky, smooth and seductive. All at once, I became aware of more than a voice. One part of my body felt the weight and heat of a body in bed with me, but then some other part of me was aware of amusement and hunger and passion and … something else. Something dark and sticky and wet.

I sat up again to see a beautiful grown woman with bright blue hair lying in bed next to me. As I sat up, I pulled the covers with me and revealed that the woman was in nothing but … oh Jesus, help me.

I blushed and hopped out of bed, covering my eyes. A surge of more of that … something. I felt it radiating off the woman like the humid Summer heat. But there was more of it. It poured out from me like ripples in a pond. I tried to contain, to hold it in, but wherever our two energies touched, it built to a swell.

“Sweet Jesus,” I whispered and ran to a corner, closed my eyes, and started to pray. How did a woman get in my bed? Who was she? More importantly, what if my parents found out?

“Molly?” said the same voice from across the house. Mom. Shoot.

“One second,” I shouted as my voice broke. “Please.”

“What are you doing in there? It’s time to go to the kitchen and —”

“Overslept,” I said. “I’ll be right there.”

I felt the amusement from the stranger behind me like hot breath on my neck. No. Not like that. Please. Not like that. Like a stray hair on my neck. Yes. That’s better. I had to turn this off. Not just the … something … that was spreading between us and threatening to drown us both, but this whole sensing thing. It had to stop before —

Mom smelling the lavender as she spread it around the house.

Constance brushing her hair, brushing too harshly. She’s hurting herself.

Dad’s allergies from mowing the lawn. He should have let me do it.

Faith’s fingers as she flipped through the page of a book. And something else, like the … something that came from the woman behind me, but tinged with desperation, a clawing kind of hunger spreading down her stomach and over her thighs.

A deep anger from the woman behind me. Deeper than any I’ve felt before, but it was dormant, like a volcano covered for now but waiting to erupt and destroy —

I spun around to face her. She was out of bed but still naked. She moved towards me like a snake, slinking her hips back and forth in one perfect and sinuous line. “Shhh,” she said, but it didn’t sound comforting. It was derisive. She was disappointed. She reached a hand out and cupped my face. “You need to control it.”

“I can’t make it stop,” I whimpered.

“Focus on one thing. Don’t block it all out. Draw your attention to one thing.” She tapped her chest. “Here, focus on this.”

“On your …” I looked at her breasts. They were perfect. I mean, I don’t know a lot about breasts, but the woman looked to be in her late thirties, but those breasts looked like a lingerie model in her early twenties. Round and full. They practically floated even without a bra.

“My hearts,” she said. She pointed to the right side of her chest. The wrong side. “Focus on my sympathetic heart.”

“Your what?”

The woman sighed and rolled her eyes, grabbing one of my hands. “I’m not going to help you with this. Relax on your own. Hurry before your mother comes.” She put her hand on her chest, above her right breast. I heard her hearts beating in her chest, both of them. One was where mine was — on the left side — and one was on the other side. I focused on that, feeling it pound softly and confidently against my hands. Then she pulled her hand away, but I could still feel it. It wasn’t like hearing it, it was something else, something more. It was like feeling the pounding of my own heart in my ears, but I knew it wasn’t mine. It was foreign and strong, something deeper and electric. For a moment, it was as though her heart could hear mine, and then my body tingled like a microphone picking up feedback.

“Calm,” she said. “Just my heart. Turn off your own senses. There is nothing else.”

I nodded and tried again.

I listened to her heart, and one by one the other senses dropped out from around me. Dad’s allergies faded away, and I unwrinkled my nose as I no longer felt the urge to sneeze. I no longer felt the tugging of Constance’s hair. Mom’s lavender was replaced with irritation that I was taking so long, but I pushed that away, listening to the sound of this stranger’s second heart. There was the deep burning and heat spreading over Faith’s body, but I pushed that away, trying to focus on nothing but the heart. I ignored the soft skin of the stranger’s body, her amusement which somehow made me feel —

No. Just the heartbeat. I followed the rhythm like counting breaths, like listening to the waves. That was it. She was the ocean, and all I had to do was get caught up in her. I listened to the majesty and glory of God in her, like staring out over the ocean and watching everything reflect goodness and hope. I let the Spirit wash over me, letting everything else sink away. I hummed a little hymn, and then there was nothing but this stranger’s heart and the Presence of God. There was nothing but —

The door opened, and my mother leaned in. I froze, as she looked at me with my hand inches from a naked woman’s body. “You’re still in your pajamas?” Mom sighed. “Hurry up or we’ll miss the lunch rush.” She blew a stray curly brown hair out of her eyes and closed the door behind her.

I flushed with embarrassment, but the stranger in front of me laughed as she stepped away. “She can’t see me,” she said. “Or hear me for that matter.”

“Are you — Is this —”

The woman shrugged. “A dream or a memory, whichever you prefer, Molly.”

The venom in her voice made me take a step back. “But what —”

“What is this kitchen your mother is taking us to?” The stranger turned and went to the side of the bed where a pile of clothes was waiting for her.

“The soup kitchen?”

She paused with her tank top halfway over her head. “You work in a soup kitchen?”

A shuffled nervously. “I volunteer.”

She smirked. “Such a good girl, Molly.” She finished putting on her tank top and then slid on leather pants. I noticed she didn’t put on any underwear but didn’t say anything.

“Why do you keep saying my name like that?”

“Like what, Molly?”

“That?”

“Why are your sister’s named Faith and Constance and you got boring old Molly? Aren’t you a good believer like them?”

“Yes,” I said defensively. I didn’t add that Constance said she didn’t believe any of this anymore and Faith was … well Faith had a boyfriend that Mom and Dad didn’t know about, and she definitely wasn’t waiting until marriage.

“Never wondered about that?” She slipped on boots and looked away from me as she talked. “Never wondered about their hair or pale skin color compared to —” She cocked her head to one side. “Better get dressed. Mommy’s getting angry.”

“Shoot. Right.” I scrambled around for something comfortable and modest for the soup kitchen, something I didn’t mind getting dirty or a little sweaty in, and paused as I unbuttoned my pajamas. The woman was watching me with her angular face and amused eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

I froze. Something was wrong. She shouldn’t be here, and I’ve never seen her before, but I recognized her. This was a dream, but I’ve lived it before so it’s more like a memory, but it felt like a memory of a dream, loose and hazy.

“Who are you?” I asked.

She smirked and put on her leather jacket. “Until you stop calling yourself Synapse, you get to call me Soma.”

“Synapse?” The name was familiar but felt far away, like a movie I watched when I was a child.

Soma shrugged. “Stole your motif. Humans have some preposterous renaming ceremony when you get an ounce of strength. I’m sad to see it’s a bad habit you’ve picked up.”

“What?”

“I’m starting the car, Molly,” Mom shouted. “Be there in two. Grab a muffin on the way out.”

Soma laughed. “A muffin. How adorable.”

“I have to go,” I said. My fingers were still fidgeting with the buttons on my pajamas, waiting for your Soma to turn around and stop staring through me.

“You’re right. We need more time.” Soma looked up as though praying. “Gretchen, we need thirty minutes back, please.”

I rolled over, and Soma was still next to me. She wasn’t under the covers this time, but she was sitting on the bed fully clothed. A rolled back over and checked the time. I still had thirty minutes or so to sleep before I had to get up for the soup kitchen.

“Do you know why we keep coming back to this day?” Soma asked. “This moment?”

I yawned, stretched, and shook my head.

“Because in thirty seconds, this is the first time you demonstrated significant non-human behavior.” She smiled, and it sent shivers down my spine. All at once, it was like being plunged in ice water, the fogginess of waking fled from my body. “This is when you first felt your powers.”

“Powers?”

She shook her head slightly. “It’s a poor term. Is a bird’s flight its power?”

“What are you talking about? I don’t have —”

“Do you wonder why you always know what your mother is feeling? Why you can anticipate her moods and needs even before she walks through the door?”

“I … I just —”

“I bet they say you’re a good listener or considerate. But that’s not it. You pick it up like breathing, but today is something special.”

“I don’t know —”

“Today is the day you stopped receiving and started transmitting.”

“Transmitting what?”

Soma snuggled next to me in the bed in a mockery of two best friends at a sleep-over. “Where’s Faith?” she asked.

“She’s in her room.”

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“I—”

“Never mind. Tangential. What’s she doing in her bed?”

“She’s reading a book.” I imagined the paper on Father’s fingertips as she flipped the pages, the familiar smell of soft and worn paper as she sat in her dark closet. No. I didn’t imagine it. I felt it. And why was she in her closet?

“Mmm, not a good girl book, is it?” Soma asked. Her breath was hot on my neck and sent tingles over my body. I tried to … tried to not feel it.

But it wasn’t me feeling it. It was Faith. The tingles over her neck, down to her breasts, over her stomach, over her thighs.

No. That was me. It was Soma’s fingertips under the covers. When did she get there? Where were my pajamas?

No. I had pajamas. Faith was naked. Why was she naked while she read a book? One hand felt the pressure of the pages under her fingertips and the other hand sank between my legs.

Her legs. Soma’s hand was between her legs, and they were both in the closet while I read my book. It was a story of two women staying at a lake house. They were neighbors. The older woman admired the younger tanning by the water and watched the swell of Faith’s breasts.

My breath was ragged as Soma peeled off my pajamas. The air over my bare skin was more … something than anything I’d felt before.

“Oh come on,” whispered Soma to Faith. “You know the word.”

“Erotic,” Faith said as she turned the page. The two women were in bed, tangled up with their swimsuits peeling off like pajamas as their hands roamed over their bodies.

“This was the first time,” Soma said. “But it won’t be the last.”

I bit my lip and shook my head as my fingers sank between my legs. “It’s wrong,” I said.

Faith kept turning the pages. She was barely reading now, just skimming as she searched for words. “Nipples in her mouth,” “soft flesh of her breast in her hands,” “flower opened at her touch,” “tasted her,” “slid her tongue inside,” “Moaned,” “Sighed.” Faith’s face flushed. My face flushed. I read the words with her. She wanted to stop, to put the book down and touch herself, but I didn’t need anyone to touch me.

Soma was touching me.

“It’s not dirty if she’s the one doing the reading,” Soma whispered. “That’s what you told yourself. You were just around for the ride, enjoying her arousal.”

“No. It’s —”

“But that wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

“Wrong,” I whimpered.

“Wrong,” Faith echoed.

“You have no idea how strong you are,” Soma said. “What you’re about to do to her, what you did more than you’d ever admit, it takes colossal strength to force a hand with brute psychic force.”

“What?”

Faith tried to close the book, but I shouted in my mind. Something thudded on the right side of my chest. Was it Soma’s mouth at my breast? No. That was the two lovers. I wanted to know when they came. I wanted to see the rest of the story, and Faith was going to stop. I wanted to see the older woman break the younger one, to bend her to her knees and take the attractive lover to her bed whenever she wanted.

Faith tried to close the book again, but she couldn’t. I read the pages through her eyes as Soma’s fingers moved faster. Faith squirmed, rubbing her thighs together, begging some unseen goddess for permission to touch herself.

Begging the unseen Synapse.

“Be kind to her,” Soma whispered as she took my nipple out of her mouth. “After all, you’re using her for your shame management.”

I arched my back as Soma’s fingers picked up speed. No. My fingers. Soma was an illusion. They were my fingers between my legs as the … something built.

Arousal. Arousal built in me, and I passed it on to Faith. She read the pages for me, and I touched myself, sending her the same feeling, easing her pressure, teasing her clit and my clit with the same fingers, bringing us closer and closer to —

The older woman pulled the younger’s hair tight as she forced her face between her legs, suffocating her in pussy. The older woman came and I —

The world went white, and Faith moaned with my orgasm, dropping the book as my pleasure shook her. I kept my mouth shut as Faith’s pleasure became mine and mine became hers, and then I took all of it. All of the pleasure was for me.

Next to me, Soma laughed.

Synapse

“Molly?” I said as I opened my eyes. I was back in the hospital bed but still not strapped to it. The warehouse was darker, and Gretchen the nervous scientist was asleep in a chair across from me. “You want to talk to Molly?”

The woman from my dream stepped out of the shadows. She was clothed now, but I couldn’t forget what her body looked like naked: her perfect breasts and the casual lines of her body as though she was cast from steel. I remembered the sound of her second heart pounding in her chest, calming me, making everything soft and safe.

“Not Molly either. You really have no idea who you are, do you, Koritsu?”