The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I ate breakfast, read the paper, took a shower, got dressed and headed out, beck towards the HEIC offices, feeling invigorated from the night before, but a little strange. I had felt the passion I experienced with Ms. Abernathy before, but never that intensely. It was something I would have to look into.

I got to the office and sat down at my computer in the library to do more research. Mr. Jones came by about half an hour later.

“I talked with Ms. Abernathy this morning,” he said, smiling a little. “She said you had quite a conversation last night.”

This, I thought, was a test. My policy always has been that discretion is the better part of valor, so I decided not to brag to Mr. Jones. “Yes, we were up the better part of the night talking. She gave me some real insights on the job.”

He looked a little surprised, as we both knew that we were dancing around something obvious. I think he considered saying something, but then thought better of it. He finally came up with this: “Well, she definitely sees potential in you. Lean everything you can from her. She’s the best at what she does.”

Like I didn’t know that. I just smiled.

Mr. Jones gave me two deliveries that Saturday, and said that would be it, but I would have another one on Sunday afternoon. I made the deliveries, to apartments on the lower and upper East Side, worked out, and made an early night of it. I arrived back at the office on Sunday, and Mr. Jones was waiting for me after I finished my work out.

“This is going to be a little different. I specifically want you to meet this particular man, as well as making the delivery. He’s one of the company founders, and you already know of him, from one of your previous jobs.”

Mr. Jones told me to get a car out of the motor pool downstairs and gave me directions to a house in suburban Philadelphia, about two hours away. Then he gave me a different kind of package, larger than the others, locked in a metal box with a carrying case. He said that it would be explained to me when I made the delivery.

I got one of the cars out of the motor pool, a nondescript dark blue Ford Crown Victoria, had a quick meal, and headed out for the south, down Route 95, through New Jersey.

By the time I got to the house, a large old farm house set back off the main road in one of the Main Line suburbs of Philly, it was almost 8 p.m. I parked at the end of the gravel drive, and saw just a few lights on in the house as I walked to the front door and rang the bell.

It was a crisp, cool late-autumn night, with clear air. I had almost forgotten what having trees all around, like this place had, did for my senses.

A man, probably in his late 60s came to the door. An almost full head of short white hair, thin, almost patrician-looking, but with a warm smile. I had a feeling of recognition, but could not place him.

“Mr. Grayson?” he asked as he opened the door.

“Yes sir.” I held out my hand to give him the shake.

“I’ll shake Mr. Grayson, but the package is not for me,” he said as he clasped my hand strongly.

This was a little bit of a surprise.

“Come on in, son.”

If I was supposed to know this man, I was not getting it yet. He welcomed me into the house, ushering me into the cherry-wood paneled den, which smelled of pipe tobacco. He sat behind a large carved-wood desk, and pointed me to a wing-backed chair nearby.

“Do you know who I am, Mr Grayson,” he asked, seemingly confident that I did not.

I shook my head.

“About eight years ago, when you were in the Air Force, getting ready to go to the Gulf, we met, quickly. You were pretty green, and a bunch of things were happening. But I saw potential in you. I’m the one that put you in the special section training program.”

The recognition flashed up in my brain. “General Harkins,” I said. “I guess not seeing you in uniform threw me off.”

General Peter Harkins, Ret., ran a number of quiet operations for the Air Force that never made it into the papers, or got any recognition outside of his own office, but probably did more to keep things quiet around the world than any number of ICBMs. I didn’t know he knew me, though.

“Good job, son. Most people don’t even know my name, even when they see my face. Yes, I was the one who put you in for the promotion. To tell you the truth, we were pretty upset when you left the force after the Gulf War. But then, we made sure you got to know Professor Ormsby at school, and things got back on track. I see you got your history and engineering degrees. Impressive.”

“Dr. Ormsby did a lot to push me along.”

“Yeah, he’s another subtle mover. It’s good to have you back in the fold, by the way.”

“Thanks, general. Do you mind me asking you a couple questions?”

“That’s why Mr. Jones sent you here. Well, that and the delivery. Let’s get that out of the way first.”

With that, he pushed a button on his desk. A few seconds later a middle-aged Asian woman, probably Japanese, entered the room from the hallway.

“Mr. Grayson, this is Miriam. You brought something for her?”

I stood and turned to Miriam. She was about 5′5″, thin, with medium length straight black hair, fine features and a quiet demeanor. Up close, it seemed that she must have been about 50 years old, but really did not show it. She wore a simple matching dark gray turtle neck and pants, with black shoes. I took her hand, and shook it.

“Good evening, Miriam,” I said, cordially.

“Good evening, Mr. Grayson,” she returned, with a relatively thick Asian accent.

I handed her the package.

She turned to leave, and the general asked her to return when she was “finished with the package.”

After she left, I sat back down, and the general began explaining.

“Mr. Grayson, I’m going to give you a peek into what the packages you have been delivering is all about. Miriam was one of the first recipients of our packages, kind of a test subject. She and three other people. The ones she gets are much less sophisticated than the ones you deliver now. Much more bulky, and actually, much less useful. But she has not wanted to change, so we leave her the way she is.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, what is the package all about?”

“You’ll see when she gets back. But basically, it makes people able to cheat a little. Puts them above their potential, or their abilities, when they have to be there.”

“is it a drug, sir?”

“No, it’s much more than that. I can’t answer a lot of the questions now. You’ll have to wait. But I can show you this now.”

Miriam came back into the room. She did not look any different. The general pulled a small box out of his desk drawer and placed it in front of him.

“Miriam, have a seat next to Mr. Grayson.”

She sat down.

“Miriam, what is 12 times 11?”

After a little struggle, Miriam came up with the answer (131).

He asked her some other simple math questions, then asked what would be the radius of a circle with the area of 4 pi.

She was stumped.

He looked at me. I knew the answer (2).

Then, he opened the box on his desk, and turned a dial inside. Miriam’s face underwent a subtle change, and her head swam back and forth a little bit.

“Now, Miriam, what is the square root of 970,225?”

Without a delay, Miriam responded “985.”

He went on, asking her complex mathematical questions, and geometrical calculations, and she responded with chilling speed, and, I suppose, accuracy. I really had no idea whether she was right.

After ten or twelve questions, the general turned the dial back to where it was before.

“Miriam, what is the square root of 196?”

“I do not know,” she answered meekly.

“Thank you Miriam. Do you have other things to do?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll see you later then,” the general said.

“It was nice to meet you Mr. Grayson,” she said, as she walked out of the room, quietly.

After she left, I said, “14.”

“You know, that was the easiest of the bunch,” he said. “Do you see what she can do? Her technology now is about 25 years old. Primitive to what we can do now.”

I was astonished. “All of the people I deliver to can do this with that box?”

“No, the box is obsolete for the most part. We got it to the point where people can modulate it themselves, unless, of course, we don’t want them to. It’s all much more subtle now.”

“Is it all math skills?”

“No, far from it. Again, without going into much detail, most of the packages you deliver are extremely discrete sets of information, designed to help those people deliver speeches, make important decisions, successfully complete negotiations, or some other such thing. Also, except for a few, the package’s effect does not last very long. Maybe a day or two.”

“Are all of them discrete, like Miriams?”

“No, Miriam needs this one because of a project she and I are researching right now. As you probably learned with Ms. Abernathy last night, it’s much much more than math skills with her. It’s control of every aspect of her body and mind. It’s a direct pipeline of knowledge. It’s control, and magnification of talents that people have never seen before.”

I think I blushed.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Abernathy didn’t file a report or anything. But I talked to her on the phone today, and she had nothing but good things to say about you. She did not go into detail. But last night, if you felt a strange feeling of attraction to her, it was as much her control of her body as it was your own. It allows her to, how should I say, give off a certian scent. As I said, the technology has greatly improved past what Miriam has.”

“Do you have it?”

“No, I’ve never taken the package. Not because I don’t trust it, just because I don’t really have the need for it. I’m not in the need for deep knowledge or high computational skills, or physical prowess. It’s more of a personal choice.”

“How about Mr. Jones?”

“No, he hasn’t either.”

“How about me?”

“Now, that’s an interesting question. You haven’t had it yet, obviously, but in case you couldn’t tell, you’re going to have the opportunity to take it. And soon. Plus, we’ve been pushing you along, in a sublte way over the past month. Your powers of concentration, your ability to calculate, a lot of other things. It’s part of the training program.”

He asked me if I wanted a drink, and I accepted some fine brandy. We talked for a while about the program, how he had migrated from the military just after the Gulf War and joined HEIC, and what his general ideas were. He told me a great deal of things.

“Mr. Grayson, you can be a very good asset for the company. But it is a very large commitment. You have to think of it as a life commitment. You don’t have to choose now, but keep it in mind as you do. If you don’t the skills you have gotten in the program will not go away. But I can guarantee you that nobody can offer you more exciting and unique challenges than HEIC. Think about it, and when the time comes, make your decision freely.”

“How long do I have?”

“How about a week?”

I took him up on his offer.

He offered his guest room for the evening, out above the garage. As it was now getting past 1 am, I decided to take him up on it.

I headed out to the guest house with lots to think about. I looked back at the house, and saw two silhouettes in the bedroom, the General and Miriam, and watched them get into bed as someone turned out the light. I went to bed thinking about what the General had said, and what it meant. I thought I was ready to make the commitment.

The next morning, I drove back up to New York, checked in, worked out, and went to the library. Mr. Jones came in, and we talked for a while about the General and Miriam.

“Miriam is a wonderful cook as well,” Mr. Jones said.

I told him about the week I had to make the decision.

“You know, most people are here for years before they meet the General and get the offer, Mr. Grayson. The General has great confidence in you. As do I. Take this offer seriously.”

He gave me a couple more deliveries. I took them around to the Fortune 500 companies’ executive floors, to the UN adjunct buildings, and the other places, now wondering what these people did with them. I wondered how the package worked, but I never asked the target people what they did with it. Just the handshake, the hand over, a casual smile, and I left.

The week went by quickly, and I kept busy. But by Thursday night, the question wouldn’t leave my mind. After thinking about it for hours on end, I decided. I would do it. The answer wasn’t all that hard anyay.

On Friday morning, I told Mr. Jones about my decision. He was happy. “Welcome aboard. We were pretty sure you’d join up, but its good to have the confirmation. I have to tell you that at least for the next few weeks, nothing is going to change. I still need a delivery person, and we need to make some other arrangements. But you’ll start noticing some subtle changes in the next week or so.

Ms. Abernathy told me that she wanted to see you the night you made the decision. She’s asked me to make you her partner. It’s ok by me.”

“Her partner?”

“Yeah, and I’ve got to tell you that what an honor that is. She’s been around here for a while, and, well she hasn’t had a partner since her last one, about three years ago.”

“What happened to the last one?”

“I’ll let her tell you about her last partner. He was a great guy.”

“How do I get in touch with Ms. Abernathy?”

“You don’t. For now. But unless you hear otherwise from me or her, meet her in the lobby of the Rhiga at eight tonight. Eat dinner before you go. How’s that?”

“You make my schedule. Can I get the time off?”

“You can have tonight off, and tomorrow. You’ll need it, I think.” He was smiling.