The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Daniel checked to make sure no one was around as he crossed towards the small abandoned building that looked like it was about to be swallowed by the monstrosity of tall metallic towers and high-energy lines that was the power station against which it was nestled.

He cut through a row of bushes overgrown with neglect before reach the external wall of the building, and walked hugging the wall until he reached the entrance, feeling silly, but still wanting to be careful. He spotted the video camera that Radhu had exploited hanging off a small tower beyond the tall fence of the power station. He gave a thumbs up, certain that Radhu was catching the feed live and keeping an eye on him. He tightened the strap on his backpack—unusually heavy, but then, he was carrying unusual stuff—and carefully opened the door to the building after ducking beneath the wide yellow CONDEMNED tape barring the door. The old sign proclaiming this to be the Department of Mathematics, Darnell University, was still readable despite the wear. He clutched the taser in his left hand, and a small flashlight in his right.

It was dark inside. Daniel pulled his phone and consulted the floor plans that Radhu had messaged him. He figured he would search the building from the basement up, as burrowing seemed like the natural reaction of anyone wanting to hide. He located two stairwells leading down, and decided to use the service one. He checked to make sure his phone was silent, then headed down, trying to make as little noise as possible.

The stairs led to a door that required a hard push to open. Daniel cringed at the noise, stopping to see if he heard any other noise in response, one that could be interpreted as someone reacting to an unexpected noise. He almost smiled when he realized that if the doctor had heard him he was undoubtedly standing as still as Daniel was to try to identify the source of the original noise.

After five long minutes, Daniel stepped through the door, using a stray chair to keep the door from clanging shut. The floor plans indicated a large hallway with classrooms on one side of the building, and something that looked like a machine room on the other side. He started with the machine room, finding it empty of life but full of discarded broken classroom furniture. There was a thick layer of dust on everything, suggesting that no one had been in the building for a long time. Radhu had told him that it had been vacated seven years earlier, and condemned two years later.

Entering the large hallway, he saw that one side of it look like it had been swept up. Following one direction of the trail with the beam of his flashlight, he saw it led to the bottom of the stairwell he had elected not to take. In the other direction, the swept-up path ended at the second door on the left, which was ajar. Bingo.

The taser at the ready, his flashlight off, he sidled along the wall, and slowly approached the door. From inside came vague mutterings. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he leaned over and peered through the opening between the door and the frame. The room inside was lit by a single overhead light bulb hanging from a long cord and casting a pale light that showed several tables pushed together and heaped with what looked like high-school chemistry experiments gone awry. Hunched over one of the tables, perched atop a tall stool and peering into a laptop computer, a man in a white lab coat was mumbling to himself. The doctor, Daniel figured.

A quick look told Daniel no one else was with the doctor, unless someone was hiding behind the door. Praying that the door would not squeak, Daniel slowly pushed it open. It did make a noise, but the doctor never noticed. He was typing furiously on his laptop, once in a while interrupting himself to run a hand through his hair.

Daniel stepped through the door, peering quickly around it to confirm that they were alone. He crept up to the middle of the room, unnoticed by the doctor, and then stopped for a second to wonder how exactly he should proceed. It had been much easier than he had expected. Too easy, in fact. Still, what else was there to do? How do you address your nemesis? he wondered.

He cleared his throat. “Doctor Cargyle, I presume?” Well done Daniel, go for the classics.

The man on the stool jumped almost a full foot in the air before twisting around, throwing the stool to the floor in the process. “What...?”

In a flash, Daniel recognized the man he had seen pushing Marjorie into a limousine all those months ago, the man he had seen at the NADA party rushing to Marjorie’s side when she collapsed on the stage, the man in the photograph that Agent Shawbank had given him. It was him. Snowman. Thaddeus Cargyle. The doctor.

The man’s eyes, wide in panic, took in the taser in Daniel’s hand, and he bolted.

He was too slow. Daniel fired, and the two probes of the taser shot out and hit the doctor in the chest, discharging immediately. The doctor collapsed on the ground, seizing as 50,000 volts coursed through his body. After a few seconds, he stopped, and lay twitching on the floor of the abandoned classroom.

Daniel stood in shock—nothing prepared one for the violence of a taser discharge the first time they witnessed it. After several seconds that elapsed like minutes, he rushed to the side of the fallen man, and reassured himself that the doctor was still alive.

He looked around the room, and saw exactly the kind of thing he needed, a mostly torn down wall that exposed plumbing and struts. He pulled the doctor to that wall, and fished out a heavy chain, a lock, and plastic fasteners from his backpack. After tying the hands of the doctor behind his back with the plastic fasteners, he ran the chain around the doctor’s waist and locked it to one of the struts.

With the doctor resting again the wall, Daniel searched the room carefully, trying to put himself in the mind of someone trying to escape being tied up and looking for anything that might help such an escape, getting rid of anything remotely sharp within walking distance, the whole time keeping an ear out to see if anyone else was coming down. When he was sure the room was secure, he examined what was on the table.

He could not understand the experiments currently running, but he turned down the burners and the electric plates. No sense in starting a fire. The laptop computer was a serviceable machine, currently running some statistical analysis. Daniel interrupted it, slid in a USB key, and copied everything that seemed reasonable to copy. He perused the files on the system, but nothing caught his eye. He hoped Radhu would be able to make sense out of some of it.

He heard Cargyle struggle to say something, regaining the ability to control his muscles. He put the laptop to sleep, and slid it into his backpack before turning to the recovering doctor, who was shaking his head.

“What...?” Cargyle mumbled, moving to stand up and remaining utterly confused by the fact that his hands were tied behind his back. He jerked on his chains a few times, looking lost and unable to make sense of anything.

“Don’t struggle. You’re tied up.”

“What...? Who... who are you?” Cargyle managed to focus enough to stare at Daniel, who stepped down from the stool and approached the doctor.

“It doesn’t really matter who I am. It matters much more who you are. Doctor Thaddeus Cargyle, also know as Snowman. Am I wrong?”

“Who are you?”

“Let’s see. You’ve worked for the Delta Iota Kappa fraternity to provide them with girls to use as sexual slaves. Stop me if I’m getting anything wrong. Those girls have been programmed to be used by the fraternity members, triggered when a member wearing a fraternity ring utters the sentence ‘I am your DIK brother.’ The girls are marked with a silver charms bracelet that is used to anchor their programming—your words.”

Cargyle was staring with ever widening eyes as Daniel spoke, which Daniel found oddly rewarding. This was the man ultimately responsible for Jenn’s predicament. Remember that, he told himself.

“One of those girls, Marjorie Duquesne, was an experiment in long-term triggering, and was used by the fraternity as a kind of reward for services rendered. Posing as Snowman, you shadowed her while she was out to keep an eye on your experiment and check for signs of instability and ultimately failure. And failure happened, in early December, at a party hosted by the New American Deal Association, where she collapsed on stage after suffering what looked like a stroke. How am I doing so far?”

Cargyle did not answer. He was petrified. He was eyeing Daniel as if expecting him to pull out a knife and gut him right where he knelt.

Daniel crouched by the pale doctor, taser at the ready. “Now, Doctor, I do not especially care about what you have done, or why. What I want to know is how to reverse the process.”

“Reverse... the process?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You did something to these girls, to get them to obey what they’re told. Wiped their mind, something. I want to know how to undo it.”

“I don’t—”

“I WANT TO KNOW HOW TO UNDO IT!” Daniel slammed his fist against the wall two inches from the doctor’s face. The doctor jumped as much as his restraints permitted him to.

“No,” the doctor said, steeling himself for the onslaught that might follow. “I won’t say a thing.”

Daniel had not expected quite that response. The doctor was looking at him with apprehension, but his fear seemed to be dissipating. I’m not who he was expecting, Daniel realized.

“Then how about I bring you to the cops? I bet they can make you give some answers.”

“Nice try. The cops don’t know I’m here. Go ahead, call them.” The doctor was gaining assurance with every passing second. “I might be guilty of trespassing on private property. But you’re guilty at least of assault with a weapon. I’ll take my chances.”

Daniel gritted his teeth, forcing himself to calm down. “Then if not the cops, about the FBI? I know for a fact that they’re looking for you.” He pulled out the picture that Agent Shawbank had given him, and slapped it on the ground in front of the doctor. “They gave me this picture, the picture that led me right to your hiding place.”

The doctor gave one look to the photograph on the ground and he jerked back, his eyes wide, his fear back and magnified. He started to shake. “Where... where did you get that...?”

“I told you. The FBI’s looking for you. An agent gave it to me. Told me to call her if I ran into you. Maybe I should give her a call.” Daniel pulled out his phone.

The doctor shrieked. “No way, no way, no way,” he kept muttering, looking right, looking left, pulling on his restraints hard enough to cause serious injuries if he did not stop. Daniel was surprised. It had not been the threat of the FBI that had caused the doctor’s fear, but the photograph itself. He looked at it again. It was a typical identification photograph, the kind you would find on a badge, on which the doctor was maybe five to ten years younger. Why would that picture scare the doctor so much? What was going on here?

The doctor was shaking, his eyes still darting left and right, trying to crawl into the wall. Daniel did not understand, but he was happy to press his advantage. Still holding his phone, he waved to get Cargyle’s attention. “It doesn’t have to be that way. I don’t have to call.”

Cargyle was looking at him with wild eyes, still jerking on the chain at random intervals.

“Just tell me how to undo it,” continued Daniel.

Cargyle swallowed, then groaned. “Need... need the girls.”

“You need me to bring the girls? And you can deprogram them?”

Cargyle nodded. “Yes...”

“And you can get rid of whatever was done to them?”

Cargyle nodded again. “Yes. Difficult, but I can... I can do it... Just... just don’t call them... Please... Please!”

The pleading tone in his voice surprised Daniel. It sounded less like someone begging not to be handed over to the cops than someone begging for his life.

“Swear to me. Swear to me that you can take care of it.”

Cargyle nodded again, this time passionately. “I swear! Please! Don’t call them!”

Daniel put his phone back in his pocket. “I won’t. But I’m also not untying you either. You’re going to stay here until I get back with Jenn, and until you show me how to reverse whatever the fuck was done to her. And then we’re going to take care of the others, and then you’ll be free to go. Deal?”

“What? No... Don’t leave me here!”

“No choice. I can’t trust you not to disappear. And I’ve had enough of folks disappearing on me.”

Daniel pulled out a jug of water from his backpack, as well as two handfuls of energy bars, and left them within reach of Cargyle. “There. This should keep you from starving until I get back. A few days, and we can resume our conversation. Anything funny happens, and I call the FBI.”

Cargyle looked at him with a mixture of anger and fear and resignation.

Daniel put the doctor’s laptop computer in his backpack, did a final check around the room to make sure he had not overlooked something that Cargyle could somehow reach and use to escape, and finally left. He closed the door behind him on the way out.

He called Radhu upon leaving the building, telling him it everything went according to plan, and that he had a computer for him to sink his teeth into. He also asked his Indian friend to keep an eye on the camera pointed at the building, in case the doctor somehow managed to escape, or in case anyone showed up.

All he had to do now was to get Jenn and bring her back here. Radhu still had his face recognition software running and filtering through the wireless camera feeds. But Daniel knew just when and where he would find her. Biff had told him already. The Delta Iota Kappa big spring party, DIK-Bash, was this week. And Jenn would be there.

Agent Eve Shawbank watched Daniel Malcolm leave the abandoned building after throwing a quick glance left and right. She noted with curiosity that the weight of his backpack had changed, as Malcolm was straining less to carry it. She had not seen exactly what Malcolm had purchased at the hardware store before coming here, but whatever it was it had been heavy, and he had left it inside. She watched him hurry down the road.

She emerged from the grove of pine trees that had sheltered her from Malcolm’s eyes, and brushed off the needles that had landed on her coat. Her movements were unhurried and methodical, with no wasted energy. She slowly scanned the area, coming to the same conclusion Malcolm had evidently reached, that they were utterly alone. She did a second pass, even slower, moving her eyes up the structures surrounding the abandoned building, noting the camera hanging off a small tower on the power station ground. That had been undoubtedly how Malcolm had known to come here. She had seen the thumbs-up Malcolm had given earlier, and she figured that he must have an accomplice hijacking the feed for surveillance. She had a good guess as to who that accomplice might be. She would confirm it later.

She waited five minutes before moving. Circling away from the building and towards the power station while staying out of range of the camera, she reached the fence of the power station. The camera was wireless, which made everything easier. She pulled out her small tablet computer from the inner pocket of her coat, and started off the appropriate application. She saw the wireless transmission from the camera clearly, and identified the base station further inside the power station. She intercepted and recorded a short two minutes segment of the feed, and then keyed in the codes that would let her hack into the base station, changing the expected frequency of the camera feed, while at the same time transmitting her recorded clip into a loop onto that new frequency. From the perspective of anyone looking at the feed, there would be a tiny glitch as the base station adjusted its frequency, and then they would see the recorded clip she was currently broadcasting in lieu of the actual camera feed, effectively blinding the camera. Unless someone was currently at the power station intently keeping his eyes on the log watching for frequency changes in their camera setup, no one would be the wiser.

Leaving the tablet computer underneath a bush, she walked to the entrance of the abandoned building. She stepped beneath the tape just like Malcolm had done, and opened the door. She had no difficulty following the tracks Malcolm had left in the dust. When the tracks turned a corner into darkness, she pulled out a small flashlight. She tried as much as possible to step within his footsteps, in case Malcolm returned and was surprised to see two distinct tracks.

She followed Malcolm’s trail to the door opening on the stairwell leading to the basement. Slowly, careful not to make more noise than strictly necessary, she went down. She caught a small rat scurrying away from the beam of her flashlight.

In the basement hallway, she had no difficulty recognizing the door through which Malcolm had gone through. She went to it, and listened. She heard breathing coming form the other side of the door, and indistinct mutters. She felt the end of the chase, the cold satisfaction of the prey caught. She pulled out her gun, though she had no intention of using it.

She pushed the door open, slowly, all her senses on the alert.

She found nothing unexpected, except Doctor Cargyle chained to a water pipe on one side of the room. The rest of the classroom bore witness to his continuing experiments.

Shawbank relaxed and holstered her weapon, savoring the moment, waiting for the doctor to realize he was no longer alone.

When the doctor raised his head, he stopped muttering, and his eyes grew wider than Shawbank thought human eyes could physically grow. A low moan seemed to emerge from the doctor’s wide-open mouth.

“Doctor Thaddeus Cargyle. I have been looking for you.”

The doctor did not respond, but the low moan grew louder. The acrid smell of piss wafted through the air. Shawbank did not need to look to see the dark puddle forming between the doctor’s legs.

She took a step towards him. The doctor seemed jolted by her movement, and while his moan grew into the beginning of a scream, he frantically backpedaled, bumping hard into the pipe to which he was chained. The look on his face was like a fine wine to Shawbank, who permitted herself a smile that seemed to frighten the doctor even more.

Without saying a word, she unhurriedly made her way to the doctor, who gave up struggling and simply stared at her like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes as large and shiny as half-dollar coins, his body shaking.

Shawbank went down to one knee before the doctor, and said not a word, merely kept her faint smile on her face. The smell of urine was stronger now, pungent. She hoped he would not void his bowels as well, as the consequent smell would make what was to follow sightly unpleasant.

She ran a red fingernail down the doctor’s cheek, not unlike a lover’s caress. That she found him disgusting did not prevent her from doing so. One had to sacrifice oneself for the effect, sometimes.

“I want the serum,” she said.

Cargyle’s shaking grew more pronounced. He was trying to speak, and it took him a few attempts to get a recognizable sound out.

“I don’t—”

“Don’t.” She put a finger over his lips, fighting the distaste. “I was sent to find you and retrieve what you stole. I want the serum.”

She let her words sink in. She was in no hurry. She looked around the room. She noted the wires leading from the wall and various experiments to a spot on the table that should naturally have held a computer but was empty. She deduced that Malcolm had snatched the good doctor’s computer, and possibly his notes. That was a snag, but a minor one.

“Where is the serum, doctor? I have searched your laboratory at the fraternity, but you would not have left it behind.” She paused, looking at him square in the eye. She knew exactly what her look conveyed, what her eyes expressed, how he was bound to react. She watched the implications of what she had told him work its way into his frightened but still brilliant mind—that she knew about Delta Iota Kappa, that she therefore knew about the girls and about the unauthorized adjustments he had performed. The doctor paled even more.

She let the venom drip into his mind before running her nail down his cheek again, this time pressing a bit harder.

“I ask again, doctor. Where is the serum? Give it to me, and I shall make sure you do not suffer.” There was no need to spell it out. Cargyle knew the score, had known it since he had decided to steal from the Corporation.

Cargyle swallowed a few times, and to Shawbank’s practiced eye looked like he was about to start bargaining. She looked at him without any expression, waiting to see what his next move would be. Cargyle must have come to the conclusion that there was no way out of the situation, because he seemed to slump in place, the tension that had been keeping his body upright vanishing in one instant. He looked tired. Tired, old, and hopeless.

“Promise?” he asked. Even his voice had lost any inflection.

“Promise,” she said. She bore him no ill will, although she would have been happier with him had he not led her on a wild goose chase for the past year. But she was paid to do her job, and paid well.

He nodded, once, twice, to reassure himself, then lifted his arm as if to point somewhere when he remembered his hands were tied. He grunted. Then he nodded towards a corner of the room. “The black tile there, in the back, a knight’s move from the corner one. It’s loose.”

Shawbank straightened up, unhurriedly, then stepped to the corner of the room, her practiced eye automatically scanning for potential traps. She did not believe the doctor would try to pull something off at this point, but people in her position did not live long if they were not careful. She found the tile, examined it, and elected to dislodge it using a piece of wood lying on the ground. Underneath, there was a dug out hole in the concrete, from which she pulled out a small steel box.

She opened it, and nodded when she saw the small flask it contained. She walked to the table, set down the flask, and pulled from her pocket a featureless black box. Carefully, she opened the flask and slid out a dropper filled with a deep burgundy liquid. She let one drop fall into the middle of the black box, which responded by turning a square inch of its surface a pale green. It was the serum. The most important task of her assignment was now completed.

She pocketed the black box, returned the flask to the steel box, and turned towards Cargyle, who had not bothered to follow her movements around the room and had remained sitting dejectedly on the ground.

She walked towards him, then around him, before kneeling on one knee behind him. She pulled out Magenta from the sheath embedded in an inner pocket of her long leather coat. In the same movement, she grabbed Cargyle by the hair and both straightened him up and pulled his head back. Before he could say anything, she ran the hunting knife across his throat, slitting it in one practiced motion and deep enough to feel the blade scratch his cervical vertebrae. Blood gushed forth, splashing on the abandoned classroom’s floor, and she let Cargyle’s body fold into the widening red pool.

Standing up, she was pleased to see that she had not gotten a single drop of blood on her jacket. The cleaning bill was always atrocious. She wiped Magenta on the back of Cargyle’s laboratory coat.

By the time she emerged from the abandoned building carrying the steel box with the serum and recovered her tablet computer, she had stashed the doctor’s body in the old furnace, after getting rid of his fingers and teeth to make identification more difficult.

She had completed two of the three tasks that her assignment required: she had recovered the serum, and she had eliminated the doctor. All that remained now was cleaning up the mess that he had caused. It was time to call in the team.