The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Charlie was glad he wasn’t going to have to book time on one of the ovens in the Culinary Department to prepare the sweet potato pie and green bean casserole he would be bringing on Thursday. With access to Amelie’s oven, he could avoid the crunch.

“Okay, class, I know it’s a Monday, but I hope you’re all sober, because just like I promised Friday, we’re sketching nudes from life today.” the teacher said, as she adjusted the chopsticks holding her hair in place.

“Woohoo!” was the unanimous outcry from the male portion of the class. Charlie had noticed that none of the guys had skipped today.

“If you like that, then you’ll love this: I have two models, so we’re going to be splitting into two groups.” Charlie, being one of the students who usually abstained on Sunday night, noticed the mischievous twinkle in Mrs. Oyama’s dark eyes. She read off a list of names, and sent them into the studio to work. Charlie noticed that all the names were people who frequently skipped, and had only come to this session to see someone naked. He figured he knew what was coming, and wasn’t disappointed as the models entered. One was an attractive, dark-haired girl in a white bathrobe that hung down to her knees. The girl looked at Charlie strangely, but then made a point of ignoring him. The other was a man who looked like someone had stolen Larry the Cable Guy’s sense of humor, and it had depressed him so much that he’d gone on a ten-day eating binge. The man waddled into the studio, and somebody screamed. There was a sound people trying to force open the door between the studio and the hall. Mrs. Oyama laughed, as did everyone in the classroom group. “Grumpy Larry” closed the door leading in from the classroom, and Mrs. Oyama did the same for the one leading from the classroom to the hall and locked it so no one could come in. After covering up the small window in the door, she nodded once to the female model, who disrobed and draped herself artfully over a provided couch. Charlie kept looking up at the girl, and his sketch came out fuzzy, but it couldn’t be helped. She had a great body, with supple curves in all the right places and boobs that were a generous handful without being too big for her frame. It was going to be a loooooong class, and yet, it couldn’t last long enough.

Chelsea Smithe had needed some extra cash, so when an art teacher from the other college advertized for nude models, she’d signed up. The other model, some trucker named Gary, was a gag model for the class-skippers. As an artist herself, Chelsea could understand and appreciate this Mrs. Oyama’s sense of humor.

One of the young men in the front row had caught her eye. Her roommate, Chelsea Smith, had told her (at length, repeatedly) about a wonderful, new boyfriend she’d met at the Seven-Eleven, who had a magic-weilding, bisexual girlfriend who had used her magic powers to give Smith a huge, new rack. The girl couldn’t stop playing with her new boobs, frigging herself to a frenzy and moaning this boy’s name.

So, that’s Charlie, huh? Smithe thought to herself, then realized she was staring and looked away. The scream from the studio provided a momentary, and amusing, distraction—along with the sounds of attempted escape. Soon, it was business time, however, and she shucked out of her robe. She’d done this before, so it was no big. Except, she couldn’t help looking at this Charlie person...and he at her. Her nipples hardened despite herself, although she could say she’d been cold. Charlie’s lines were far too short; his sketch was going to come out fuzzy.

Then she realized she had an itch between her shoulder blades. Another one appeared at the end of her nose. This was going to be a loooooooooooong class, and it couldn’t be over soon enough.

“I’m really very surprised at being asked here.” Pastor Brown said as he followed a bishop down the corridor. “I mean, being a Protestant and all.”

“Some things are important enough to set aside such differences.” the bishop responded. The pastor was left in a waiting room with a lay priest. This other man’s name was Father Hernando, a Spaniard. Pastor Brown’s experience with Hispanic immigrants proved an asset as the two conversed in Spanish.

“So, why are you here?” asked Hernando.

“I saw a battle between two sorceresses, right outside my own church.” Brown replied. “A member of my congregation bounced back an evil spell at the one who cast it. I went on the internet to see if I could find out more about it, but found mostly fictional stories, until a message popped up on my screen telling me to pack for Rome and proceed to the nearest airport. When I presented my ID, I found a ticket waiting for me. First-class, can you believe it?”

“I can.” Father Hernando said. “I heard the name of a sorceress repeatedly in Confession from multiple persons, and tried to figure out who this sorceress was.”

The door opened, and the bishop gestured the two into the main office, where a Cardinal awaited them. “Since Spanish is a language you both speak, I trust there are no objections to conducting this interview in that language?” the Cardinal said, more statement than question. Both men shook their heads. The Cardinal gestured for them to sit, and proceeded to grill them. Father Hernando steadfastly refused to reveal the confessions or identities of his confessors, but the Cardinal didn’t need that information, only that which pertained to the sorceress. Brown was surprised to hear Charlie’s name mentioned as the rescuer of the confessors. When Pastor Brown admitted he didn’t know the names of the sorceresses involved in the combat near his church, the Cardinal made a gesture, and the bishop withdrew a painting.

“That’s her! I mean, that’s one of them. She seemed to know Charlie and defer to him.”

“What can you tell us about the other woman?” the Cardinal asked. Pastor Brown said that she seemed to be of Arabic descent, and described her robes as best he could.

“Merlin’s Circle.” the Cardinal muttered in Latin—another language Pastor Brown knew. He repeated himself in Spanish for the benefit of his guests, though they’d both understood. “Merlin’s Circle is the ruling council of the Order of Merlin, an organization of archmagi deemed especially dangerous by the Church. Members of the Circle are given titles that the uninformed believe are their true names—a personal title followed by the honoriffic ‘Myrdhynn.’ One of the Knights Templar managed to kill one, Tashi Myrdhynn, two hundred years ago—and was turned into a tree by the leader, Ali Myrdhynn, as an example to anyone else who might oppose the Order. The spellbook belonging to that slain Myrdhynn has disappeared and resurfaced repeatedly since the slaying—always eluding any Church officials trying to obtain it. There are those who say the book itself is alive.”

Something moved in Parson Brown’s peripheral vision. When he looked, it was gone, but he thought he’d seen the robe of a Myrdhynn. The Cardinal lit a censer and began to swing it, chanting softly in Latin. The form of a man appeared, dressed in Myrdhynn robes. The Myrdhynn gestured, and the door flew off its hinges. He dashed down the hallway with the speed of a demon or a Jedi, leaping over a gathering of priests as if they were no more than green plastic soldiers.

“You are in danger. Both of you.” the Cardinal said. “The Order of Merlin is jealous of its Satanic secrets, and will not suffer others to learn of them.”

“Then, why did he not slay us right then?” Parson Brown asked. The Cardinal’s expression stated that he did not like being questioned.

“Because his magic was dampened by the strength of the Lord.” the Cardinal said. “Come, we will find someplace safe for you.”

The room emptied. From behind a tapestry, another man emerged, also dressed in the robes of a Myrdhynn. He conjured a whirlwind that sucked up the smoke and a great many papers. His invisible state was restored once the smoke was out of the room. “Is it just me, or do these children get worse with every generation? In my day, even the most junior ghosthunter’s apprentice knew that extract of dragonbane mixed with the proper herbs and set afire makes the invisible visible. Hmph. Ah, here we are.” He slid the desk to the front of the room and rolled up the rug, revealing a safe hidden below. Opening it was a simple matter of moving the tumblers into place with an incantation and turning the handle. Obviously, the last time the safe had been upgraded was sometime around World War II. The Myrdhynn rifled through parchments as old as the Church itself, a collection not nearly as expansive as that in the keeping of the Papacy, of course, but certain things were more safely kept where thieves would NOT think to look, and magophobic they may be, but the Church officials were not foolish enough to keep all their eggs in one basket. A leather-bound volume emerged—a listing of books and magical devices whose destruction was a Church-wide priority, written by the hand of Pope Pius II himself—and disappeared into the Myrdhynn’s cloak as an item of personal interest. A long-dead Cardinal’s essay recommending suppression of vernacular translations of the Bible fluttered to the floor of the safe as the Myrdhynn continued to rummage, as did a detailed plan for the assassination of Martin Luther. “Here it is.” the Myrdhynn said, withdrawing an old scroll from a corner. He had to use magic to keep the poorly-preserved and badly-creased scroll intact as he opened it. “Just as Ali Myrdhynn suspected.” he muttered, then rolled up the scroll and slid it into his robe. He closed the safe and restored the rug and desk, then disappeared through a vortex, and the room was truly empty at last.

“Hi!” chimed a female voice as Charlie topped the stairs. Charlie looked up and saw Chelsea Smith waiting for him by his door. She kissed him passionately, pressing her impressive breasts against him and grinding her crotch against his.

“How’d you get past the guard?” he asked.

“I had a couple of friends create a diversion.” she responded with a wink as he led her inside. “I didn’t notice how quiet it was in here before.” she remarked. “Kind of weird. I’ve never heard of a soundproof dorm before. I thought they were all built with thin walls on purpose so nobody can get away with anything.”

“Amelie’s magic.” Charlie said by way of explanation. Chelsea peeled out of her clothes, having the most difficulty with her shirt, already stretched almost beyond endurance by the size of the chest it was obliged to contain. Her boobs bobbled delightfully when she finally managed to get it off. Charlie took one of her nipples into his mouth, and she arched backward like an archer’s bow. Then he took the other nipple in his mouth so it wouldn’t feel left out. His tongue played over the warm, stiff pleasure-nub, and she responded as if it were her clit he was tongueing. He smiled as she came hard just from the mammary stimulation, and brought her into an embrace while she calmed down.

“More?” she asked weakly. He led her over to the bed, maneuvering her so she wouldn’t bump her head on the bunk above. He kissed her as his penis slid into her opening. It was just the two of them, and that seemed to suit her just fine. In the confined space, their hips did most of the work, and she did her part, bringing hers up to meet his on his downstrokes. She came again, and he came inside her as she was calming down. The tenderness in her expression seemed to demand some sort of response, but he couldn’t think of the words to fit the situation, so he simply held her close and ran his fingers through her hair.

“Don’t touch that.” Amelie said, catching Steve gazing at a blue-green crystal pendant on a silver chain in a velvet-lined box near her bed.

“I didn’t touch anything!” he said defensively, whirling to face her like a cornered rabbit.

“And don’t look at it in the light, either.” Amelie said. “It will snare your mind if you are not careful. Its properties aren’t as powerful as the spell that backfired on me, but are very potent nonetheless.”

“Oh. A hypno-crystal, then? Cool!”

“Get out.” she said, eyes narrowing. He closed the box and scooted past her like a whipped dog. Amelie closed the door to the master bedroom and headed back downstairs. Master was coming in through the closet-gate, bringing the girl Chelsea with him. “Welcome home, Master!” she chimed, bouncing eagerly down the stairs. She hugged both of them, glad that he had chosen to bring Chelsea.

“Wow, Amelie, is this your place?” Chelsea asked.

“All that was mine now belongs to Master.” Amelie replied humbly.

“Uh, okay.” Chelsea said. Her gaze wandered to an old grandfather clock at the base of the stairs. “Wow, is that the right time?”

“We’re in Spain, so time is a little different here.” Amelie said. “I pulled some more money from my account, Master. Would you like to go to dinner? We could bring Chelsea with us.”

“Can we go to Long John Silver’s?” Chelsea asked.

“Sure.” Master responded. They returned through the gate to America and slipped down past the guard.

Steve opened the door to Amelie’s room, quietly creeping up on the jewel box with the hypno-crystal in it. Slipping the pendant into his pocket, he closed the box, crept out of the room and closed Amelie’s door. He was as nervous as a first-time shoplifter all the way out past the guard station, but made it to the quad without incident. He put on a pair of sunglasses and mounted the sidewalk leading to the library. In due course, he met a girl coming the opposite direction, walking alone.

“Excuse me, miss. I found a bit of jewelry in the parking lot, and I was wondering if it was yours.” he said, and raised the pendant up to eye level, but she dropped her books and covered her eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t!” she said, angrily. “I’m not falling for another psychology major’s hypno tricks!”

“Huh?” he asked, and she backhanded him to the ground, gathered her stuff, and ran off. “Owwwww.” he groaned. He ran his tongue over his teeth to make sure he wasn’t missing any, then picked himself up and spent several minutes scrambling around in the grass, looking for the pendant. Finding it, he brushed grass clippings off of it and wiped it off on his pants. “I need a different approach.” he sighed, rubbing his chin.

Cyndi Lauper’s “She Bop” was playing over the speakers as the trio ate. Charlie was enjoying an order of jumbo shrimp, Chelsea had a pair of fish planks on which she had poured perhaps a little too much malt vinegar, while Amelie was eating a chicken sandwich—which kind of defeated the purpose of coming to a fish place, but Charlie wasn’t going to say anything.

“Sounds like a lot of work for just one lady.” Charlie said in response to Chelsea’s comment that her mother would be cooking the entire Thanksgiving dinner herself. “My mom cooks the turkey, and makes everyone else bring sides, you know, kind of a potluck thing.”

“I’d never be able to get food past airport security.” Chelsea said. “I’m not even sure how I’m going to smuggle these milk jugs, if you know what I mean.” The others laughed. The song changed to Sean Paul’s “Get Busy,” and Chelsea started dancing in her seat—well, as best she could in the confined space. Her “milk jugs” jiggled along, providing a nice distraction.

The officer was young, Latin and, most importantly, an attractive female, so Steve decided to try his luck again. She saw him coming, and put her hands on her hips. “If you’d like to report an assault, you’d better try the precinct house.” she said with an irritated tone.

“Huh?” he responded, then rubbed his chin, wincing at the bruise that was forming. “Oh, that. No, this has nothing to do with that.” He approached closer, stopping under a street lamp. “I found something, and since I don’t want to be a jewel thief, I’d like to turn it in.”

“Precinct house.” the woman repeated. Well, this wasn’t working. He pulled out the pendant and held it up for her inspection, swinging it slightly. “I...” she began. Her expression slowly relaxed, and her hands hung down to her sides. Her mouth hung open, and she had eyes only for the pendant he held.

“You will obey.” he said. “You will obey my every command.” She just stared, starting to drool a bit. “Say it.”

“I will obey your every command.” she droned.

“You belong to me. Say it.”

“I belong to you.”

“You will be my adoring sex-slave. Say it.”

“I will be your adoring sex-slave.” she said. Steve adjusted his growing stiffy into a more comfortable position. He put the pendant away, and the cop continued to stand there, staring at the place where it had been, her eyes moving back and forth as if still tracking its movements.

“Follow me.” he commanded. She shambled in his direction as he led her away. She followed him all the way back to the dorm. Smuggling her in was a simple matter of having her flash her badge at Bigsby. He didn’t have the guts to interfere with police business, and so let her follow Steve upstairs unchallenged.

Steve led his helpless captive through the closet to the Spanish manor, and up to his room, where he closed the door for privacy. He had her undress, unveiling her wonderful body for his inspection. “My sex-slave should be aroused in my presence.” he said. He was treated to the sight of her nipples hardening and her slit moistening right before his eyes.

He had her lay back on the bed, looking her over like a kid looking over the selection in the candy aisle. He took her nipple into his mouth and began to suck, but she offered no response, staring blankly at the ceiling.

What ever happened to the “adoring” part? he thought to himself. Inspired, he leaned close to her and whispered. “When I snap my fingers, you will awaken but still be subject to the instructions I have given you.” He snapped his fingers, and the officer blinked her eyes, expression returning to her lovely face.

“I...how did I get here?” she asked. “Why do I adore you for no good reason?” He smiled and kissed her, his hand tracing its way down her nude flesh.

“Don’t worry about it, doll.” he told her as the kiss ended.

“My name isn’t ‘doll.’ It’s Claudia. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but...damn, I want you.” Okay, maybe his technique wasn’t perfect, but he could work on it. He shucked out of his clothes.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, giving his dick a slow stroke.

“Yes, dammit!” she snapped.

“Well, I want you doggy-style. Get on your hands and knees.” She frowned as she turned over. “Just relax and try to enjoy it.” he said. He slid his pecker into her wet opening. She fucked back against him as he thrust and grunted. He stiffened and ejaculated inside her, falling off the bed as his energy left him.

“What, was that it?” she asked. “Come on, I’m just getting warmed up!” She crawled off the bed and put her mouth on his cock to try resuscitating his erection.

Charlie led the procession back through the closet, followed by Chelsea with Amelie bringing up the rear. They headed upstairs, and Amelie paused at Steve’s door.

“What’s wrong, Amelie?” Charlie asked.

“I sense something.” Amelie responded, sounding somewhat cross. “I’ll join you momentarily, Master.” Charlie nodded and led Chelsea to the master bedroom.

“Wow.” Chelsea said, looking around. The first place her eyes fell was on the huge, King-sized bed. Having figured out that Charlie wasn’t the biggest fan of malt vinegar, she left him by the bed while she went to freshen up.

Steve froze as Amelie appeared up above him and his mind-controlled cop. She touched Claudia’s forehead, and the woman fell limply to the floor, sound asleep and snoring softly. Amelie picked up Steve’s pants and fished out the pendant.

“I told you not to touch it.” she reminded him.

“Um, sorry.” Steve responded sheepishly.

“’Sorry,’ huh?” Amelie said. “You know Master doesn’t like you borrowing his things without permission.”

“Um, really sorry?” he tried. Amelie seemed to change the subject.

“So, what did you do to get her so frustrated?”

“Nothing. She’s just insatiable.” Steve said, covering his crotch with the officer’s uniform shirt. She bent down to glare into his eyes. Between that piercing stare and the soft, inviting breasts that he couldn’t touch hanging just below, he decided the ceiling was the most interesting thing he’d seen in a long time. He heard soft muttering, and her fingers crackled with electricity, like the end of a cattle prod in a movie. Terrified, Steve crab-walked away from the sorceress, while everything that he’d done and tried that night spilled out of his mouth like the morning after a particularly nasty binge. Amelie’s fingers ceased to spark threateningly, but she advanced on him as he backed into a corner. “W-w-what’re ya gonna do?” he squeaked.

“I’m going to fix it so you can satisfy your ‘adoring sex-slave.’” Amelie said. “She deserves that much.” She picked up Steve’s discarded shirt, then touched his pecker.

“Ah! Ah! Ah, FUCK!!” Steve shouted as Amelie’s magic enlarged his penis. He blew his wad as the spell finished, but Amelie caught it in the shirt. Then, she went to work on the rest of his body. Steve’s flesh rippled uncomfortably as his muscles toned under her hands. Then, Amelie turned her attention to the cop, awakening her and dangling the pendant in front of her eyes. The sorceress whispered in Claudia’s ear, and Claudia stared, helpless under Amelie’s power, mumbling occasionally in response to a question. She snapped her fingers, and Claudia awoke.

“I’m not doing this for you again unless Master commands it.” Amelie said sternly.

“What did you do?” Steve asked.

“I fixed your sloppy programming.” Amelie responded. She stalked out of the room, taking the pendant with her.

“Master?” Claudia asked, crawling toward Steve. He looked at her, and saw the celebrated Latin passion in her eyes, barely restrained as she waited for his permission, or command, or whatever. He kissed her, and she wrapped herself around him. She was an awesome kisser, and he was erect again in no time. He disentangled himself long enough to get up on the bed.

“Come on, Claudia, let’s finish what we started.” he said—which was exactly what she had in mind. Pouncing like a tigress, she plastered him to the mattress and gave him another mind-melting kiss.

“Anything you want, Master.” she said huskily. He put his hands on her hips and guided her onto his new, bigger penis. She moaned as she slid down his pole. His new size made her feel even tighter than before, but he was able to hold back. Her body moved like that of a dancer, and Steve was forced to confront his own lack of sophistication. His experiences with college and high-school girls were nothing more than blind rooting compared to this. Her body tightened up, shaking in a well-earned orgasm, and Steve could hold back no more, thrusting to maximize his penetration as he fired yet another load of semen, this time deep into her womb.

Much to Steve’s surprise, his erection didn’t fade much before returning—which was just as well, because Claudia wasn’t even close to finished. Without untangling themselves, they rolled over so she was on the bottom this time. He suckled on her tits and massaged her luscious ass as his hips moved his member within her again. Claudia was doing things with her vaginal muscles that drove Steve nuts—and drove his nuts to queue up another load of spunk before he knew what was happening.

Exhausted, he lay down on the bed, with Claudia curled up beside him and kissing him tenderly as he nodded off.

Amelie returned just as Chelsea emerged from the bathroom. As one, Charlie and Chelsea decided she needed some help calming down. Amelie put something in a little jewelry box and cast a spell on it. A green-glowing pentagram in a circle surrounded by runes and another circle glowed around the box before Amelie finished.

Charlie started by kissing the place where her neck met her shoulders and massaging her backside. Chelsea joined in, undoing Amelie’s blouse and caressing her breasts. Tense muscles relaxed, and Amelie’s head lolled back as a moan escaped her lips. Chelsea unzipped Amelie’s skirt, and the sorceress kicked off her shoes and let the two have their way. They maneuvered her into the bed, Chelsea taking a position at Amelie’s snatch, her tongue working eagerly. Charlie slid himself into Chelsea’s welcoming wetness, which caused her to moan into Amelie’s pussy. It wasn’t very long before both women were in the throes of orgasm. After a brief recovery, they switched places, Amelie’s tongue probing deep into Chelsea’s center to get at the cream filling. Charlie gave her her own load of semen several minutes later.

The trio lay in the bed, Chelsea encircled by Charlie’s left arm, Amelie nestled contentedly in his right. The women’s fingers entwined together on Charlie’s chest, and they shared the afterglow in contented silence before all three drifted off to sleep.

Wednesday afternoon found Charlie and Amelie in the kitchen of her Spanish manor. Steve had already left for home. Amelie wasn’t a very good cook, but she was an eager assistant and an alluring sight in nothing but a barbecue apron. Amelie had had a stockpile of eggs in her walk-in refrigerator that Charlie had worried about letting go bad now that the population of the manor was so drastically reduced, so they had killed time while the sweet potato pie and green bean casserole were cooking by deviling enough eggs to feed an army.

When the time came for them to go to bed to rest up for the next day’s drive from the college, a two-hour trip in a white ‘83 Ford Granada which Charlie only used for going home and coming back, they put the food in the fridge and spent some well-earned alone time in the master bedroom.

After some rather ordinary but passionate lovemaking, Charlie lay beside her, running his fingers through her bountiful hair. It was hard to believe, sometimes, that this affectionate, passionate and sensuous creature had once been an evil sorceress. If anyone had ever told him that one day he would be happy somebody tried to cast a black magic spell on him, or that anyone could be happy as a mind-bound sex slave, he would have told them they were nuts. But he was, and she was, and...

Was he falling in love with her? He wasn’t sure. Their relationship wasn’t exactly the kind one could write about to Dear Abby. Penthouse Forum, maybe. At the moment, however, he was content to play things by ear.

They left on Thursday morning, keeping to the less-crowded service roads and merging onto the Interstate only when absolutely necessary. Their arrival was a little thrilling, because they had to scoot quickly across the road and onto the property to keep the Granada from sinking into the sugar sand at the end of the driveway.

There were already cars parked all over the place. Charlie climbed the Granada out of the dirt driveway with an effort, parking within inches of some child’s fort made out of old Power Wheels vehicles and other such items lying on their sides in a semicircle beneath the branches of an old oak tree.

Amelie carried the casserole and pie while Charlie took two trays of eggs. Both were dressed in blue jeans and black sweaters, and Charlie had even found her a pair of Velcro tennis shoes to match the ones he was wearing.

“Charlie!” exclaimed a round, black-haired woman who only came up to his chest. Charlie passed his trays to a handy relative so he could hug her.

“Hi, Mom.” he said.

“And who’s this?” his mother asked, her eyes roaming up and down Amelie’s form.

“This is my girlfriend, Amelie.” Charlie said. “Amelie, this is my mother, Charlene.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” Amelie said politely.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Amelie.” Charlene replied. There was food stacked on the pool table, coffee table and some end-tables that had been pressed into service for the holiday. The adjustible legs of a ping-pong table had been lowered to their shortest setting and the net removed so it could serve as the kids’ table. The pie was placed on one of the end tables, and the casserole was added to a queue of dishes to be re-warmed in the oven in the camper by Charlie’s father, Harold, a big, strapping man who stood nose and forehead above his son. Charlie and a few helpers got out the remainder of the devilled eggs while Charlene interviewed Amelie. Amelie told a strained interpretation of the truth, leaving out references to magic and Charlie’s tattoo. Questions about her family were set aside after Amelie told the woman that her mother had died in a fire, her father had been struck by lightning, and she’d been raised by an uncle she didn’t like to talk about.

In reality, her uncle had slain her mother with a fire spell and her father with a lightning spell before kidnapping Amelie in order to use her magical potential for his own ends. He’d trained her to use dark magic, but treated her as nothing more than a tool. At fifteen, she’d broken free of her uncle’s geas, ripped through his wards and turned him into a frog, which she then fed to a snake. But that was no fit story for Thanksgiving.

“Well, looks like Charlie’s taste has improved since last year.” said a male voice nearby. A thirty-year-old man stood at her right shoulder, bearing some resemblance to Charlie but with his mother’s dark hair—what was left of it. His hairline had already retreated to the high ground. The man grew his back hair long to compensate, like Gallagher. “I’m Harold, Jr., Charlie’s big brother.”

“Amelie.” Amelie responded, shaking the man’s hand.

“Harold, honey, it’s your turn.” said a diminutive Asian woman, palming off an infant on him. The smell that wafted to Amelie’s nose let her know exactly what it was Harold, Jr.’s turn to do. He took the child to the restroom, grabbing the diaper bag on the way. Another child waddled up to the couch and crawled up into Amelie’s lap. “Oh...uh, that’s our firstborn, Akiko. I’m Kumoko.”

“Enchanted.” Amelie said sincerely. The girl was beautiful, with her entrancing, dark eyes, cute-as-a-puppy face and gorgeous, black hair.

“Oh, wow, is that little Akiko?” Charlie asked. Amelie’s eyes sparkled as she passed the toddler to her uncle. “Remember me, Akiko? Uncle Charlie?”

“Maybe not, it was half a lifetime ago for her.” Kumoko said. Nevertheless, Akiko lay her head on Charlie’s shoulder and let him hold her while he chatted animatedly with his sister-in-law, catching up on all the embarassing moments Harold, Jr. had endured since the last time they’d seen each other. Akiko turned her head to the other side and lay it back down, regarding Amelie with those entrancing eyes. After a few moments, she picked her head up and reached out for Amelie, grunting until her uncle passed the child back.

“Well, hello.” Amelie cooed.

“Well, there it is, Charlie.” Charlene said. “Amelie has the Akiko Seal of Approval now.” There was general laughter all around. Akiko lay her head on Amelie’s soft breast and put a thumb in her mouth. Amelie felt warm inside, holding little Akiko gently until the oven beeped, announcing that the turkey was done. Charlene went to attend to that, and Harold, Sr. began bringing re-warmed side-dishes in from the camper. Soon the turkey was carved. Some of the more tender cuts were put into the blender to be pureed and fed to the younger children. Charlene went to a room with a “Hazardous Waste” insignia on the door and banged like a cop serving a warrant.

Thomas was duking it out with Legendary Super Saiyan Broly when his mother’s “knock” startled him out of his rhythm. As a result, Broly unleashed a merciless air-juggle combo that annihilated the rest of Super Saiyan Goku’s life bar.

“Thomas! Come out and eat with the rest of us!” his mother said. “You’ve been antisocial long enough!” Sighing, Thomas turned off his Playstation 2 and unhooked the hook-and-eye lock that was the only thing keeping his door closed. Years of rowdy boys barreling down the hall full-speed and ramming into it in the course of their horseplay had left the door in sorry condition. A piece of doorframe was still screwed to the top hinge, but separated from the rest of the frame, so the door was supported only by the bottom hinge. He lifted up on the knob to get the thing closed and reached up to fasten another hook-and-eye lock to keep it closed in his absence. “Don’t you have a better shirt?” his mother asked, looking disgustedly at the Insane Clown Posse T-shirt Thomas was wearing.

“Nope.” Thomas responded, sidling past her to get this family reunion over with. A chorus of “Tommy”s greeted his ears as he emerged from the hall, much to Thomas’ disgust. He hadn’t thought of himself as Tommy since he was nine.

“Wassup, Thomas?” asked Charlie. Thomas smiled. Charlie was cool, he treated Thomas as an equal. Like him, Charlie was an amalgam of their parents, but all the physical features Thomas had in common with one parent, Charlie had in common with the other. A hot mama with red hair stood at his side. “This is my girlfriend, Amelie. Amelie, this is my brother, Thomas.”

“Nice to meet you, Thomas.” she said pleasantly, shaking his hand. Her hand was soft and warm in his, and her bodacious boobs were like powerful electromagnets, and his eyes were made of steel. Charlie helped him pry his attention away from the woman’s chest with the lure of a 16MB Playstation 2 memory card, an upgrade from the 8MB card currently occupying his system. His eyes stopped when they reached Amelie’s eyes—even more irresistible than the boobs, though he hadn’t thought that was possible. Charlie closed his gawking mouth.

“H...hi.” he stammered. The goddess smiled, and Thomas almost creamed his pants. They talked a little, but Thomas couldn’t remember later what they’d talked about. The spell was broken when Thomas was seated next to Charlie, who sat between him and Amelie.

“How do you get so lucky?” Thomas asked while their mother served up slices of turkey.

“It was almost like magic.” Charlie said with a grin. Amelie laughed without giggling, which only served to increase her value in Thomas’ eyes. He just hated gigglers. Thomas avoided conversation with the clueless relatives by keeping his mouth full. He did offer thanks to whoever thought to bring devilled eggs. Charlie surprised him by clapping him on the back and saying “You’re welcome, bro.”

When the meal was over, most of the guests dispursed to indulge in a post-Thanksgiving-dinner coma. Charlie and Amelie joined Thomas in his room. Charlie played against him, quickly getting back into practice despite the months since the last time he’d played this game. Amelie cheered Charlie on as the brothers fought each other in Dueling mode.

“So how’s school treatin’ you, Thomas?” Charlie asked when they took a break to let his thumbs rest.

“’Bout like usual.” Thomas responded.

“That bad, huh?”

When Amelie excused herself to use the restroom, Thomas watched her leave, her butt having the same magnetic attraction as her eyes and boobs. “I gotta tell ya, Charlie, I have a serious crush on your girlfriend.”

“I noticed.” Charlie replied, dropping the 16-meg memory card in Thomas’ lap. It took the fourteen-year-old a moment to recognize it as the object with which he’d pried Thomas’ eyes away from Amelie’s chest—where they’d quickly been ensnared by her eyes. “Remember how jealous we used to be of Junior because he married Kumoko?”

“Totally.” Thomas responded, although the time when Kumoko had been the epitome of sexiness seemed like a billion years ago.

“Well, now I’ve got Amelie, and if the trend continues...” He let his sentence hang in the air, patting his brother on the back. Thomas stared at the pause screen, trying to wrap his mind around the concept of a woman being hotter than Amelie, much less of someone as hot in proportion to Amelie as Amelie was in proportion to Kumoko.

“Thomas!” their mother called.

“Oh, brother.” Thomas muttered, leaving the room carefully.

Amelie felt lighter as she returned to Thomas’ room. She’d been so caught up in the sense of belonging that she hadn’t paid much attention to how much she was eating. She thought of little Akiko again and her hand drifted to her stomach, swollen with her too-large meal. Amelie fantasized, imagining the bulge was instead the result of pregnancy.

What a fool she’d been, she realized. Power for power’s sake was nothing but a constant struggle to be the best, the strongest, the wealthiest. And in the process, she’d denied herself so much joy.

“You okay, honey?” Charlie asked.

“Just thinking to myself.” Amelie responded languidly, approaching with as seductive a walk as she could manage.

“Huuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh...” Thomas intoned behind her.

“Oops.” Amelie said, noticing the bulge in Thomas’ pants.

“Oh, hi, Thomas, what did mom want?” Charlie asked as a distraction.

“Huh? Oh. She wanted me to help put the food up.” Thomas responded. “Talk about a pain in the butt.” The guys settled back in to their game. Amelie sat on the bed, then lay back to let her stomach settle.

It was late afternoon when Amelie was awakened by the westering sun shining directly in her eyes. She stood up and found the room deserted, the lights and game equipment turned off.

She groggily exited the room, mumbling a little spell to keep the door’s loose hinge in place despite the broken wood to which it was attached. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty!” Charlene greeted her as she emerged. The population of cars was much smaller outside now. The only non-residents left seemed to be herself, Charlie, Junior and his family. Akiko toddled over to Amelie, who picked her up eagerly despite the difficulty of the maneuver.

“I didn’t mean to go to sleep like that.” Amelie said apologetically, directing most of it to Thomas, who smiled as if to say it was an honor. Amelie sat, with the child in her lap, and reached into her pocket—and her pocket dimension. She came up with three identical baubles, one of which had a minor charm on it. Ordinarily they were used to test a prospective apprentice’s sensitivity to magic, but they were shiny and held the toddler’s attention.

Akiko reached for the charmed one without hesitation, ignoring the other two completely. When Akiko got distracted by something her mother was doing, Amelie switched out the charmed bauble for one of the uncharmed ones. Akiko tossed that to the floor and reached for the charmed one again. Amelie let her have all three, but the child had eyes only for the charmed one.

“No doubt about it, there’s something about that one she likes.” Charlie remarked. Indeed, Amelie decided the matter deserved further investigation.

Charlie knew Amelie was casting her soundproofing spell on the walls of his old room even though he didn’t hear her speaking the words. It announced itself with a similar tingle to the one he’d felt when he’d walked through her magical snare in the mall. He smiled. Obviously either his parents had gone to sleep, or she’d cast a sleep spell on them, so she could leave her place on the hide-a-bed.

“Is the coast clear?” he asked unnecessarily.

“Yes, Master.” she responded, gazing smokily at him. He beckoned her close, and she kissed him hotly, practically radioactive with passion. She was like an animal in heat, a creature of pure lust. Her body convulsed in seizures of pleasure whenever she climaxed, and when he came in her, she arched like a wooden bow being drawn taut, her mouth opening in a silent scream. She went limp like a puppet with her strings cut, gasping for breath as they lay basking in the afterglow.

“Wow.” he said softly as she snuggled against him. Her eyes were full of more love than he’d ever thought possible. Of course, Charlie wasn’t very experienced in having women in love with him. Sure, there were those who’d been willing to sleep with him, and some who had said they loved him while under the influence of Ecstasy, but until he’d made the changes to Amelie, he hadn’t been with anyone who truly loved him. Compared to that, though, her performance tonight was galvanized to new levels. “What brought this on?” he whispered, caressing her gently. “That was something else.”

“Master...” she began. Words failed her, and she shook her head as if to say “never mind.” Instead, she laced her fingers in his and lay her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Amelie woke alone. She bit back a whimper of regret and slipped off to the shower. The sun was filtering through the trees on the east side of the house, creating a soft, wholesome atmosphere. Wrapped in a towel, she grabbed some clothes from her overnight bag. Thomas’ eyes were as big as dinner plates when she slipped past him and back into the bathroom.

Kumoko was feeding Akiko when Amelie emerged the second time. Harold, Jr. was fiddling with the gas heater. “Where’s Charlie?” she asked.

“Out in the camper working on a project for art class.” Kumoko replied, while Akiko stuffed a handful of Cheerios in her mouth. Amelie smiled at the child and headed out the door.

The camper was smaller than Charlie’s dorm room, and that was saying something. Aside from the closet, a restroom that could be more accurately described by the European term “water closet,” a built-in mini fridge, a sink and a combination oven and stove, everything else seemed to be of the fold-up variety. Charlie had the oven on and partially open for warmth, and everything else was folded up to give Charlie room to work. A laptop sat on a TV tray, softly playing Susanne Vega’s “Tom’s Diner” while he painted from a fuzzy sketch. The windows were open, and a box fan blew the paint fumes out to keep them from building up.

He turned to her and smiled affectionately. She returned the smile, and tried to wipe some of the paint smudges off his face. When a moist paper towel didn’t work, she used a cleansing spell. He put his brush in a can and embraced her.

“Miss me, honey?” he asked.

“Whenever we’re apart, Master.” she responded, putting her head on his shoulder. She felt him grasp her backside and moaned. He showed her the painting. Instead of trying to compensate for the short-stroke fuzziness that had come about in his sketch, he worked with it, incorporating it into the composition. Though unfinished, the image still managed to convey a sort of feline sensuousness. The media-player switched to Tears for Fears’ “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” while Amelie stared at the painted eyes of the figure on the canvas. The eyes were larger than normal for a human, to emphasize the desire burning in them. He’d added a tail and feline ears, leaving out the human ones.

“Artistic license.” he explained softly.

“It works.” she said.

“I hope so, it counts as a major exam.” he responded. “Speaking of exams, is that what you were doing with Akiko?”

“It was the closest I had to children’s toys. It would have stopped there if she hadn’t gone right for the charmed bauble.”

“So, she’s sensitive to magic then?”

“Yes. It’s usually the first sign of magical ability.”

“Mom and dad were already asleep when you came to me last night, weren’t they? You didn’t cast a sleep-spell on them, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I didn’t think so. I felt you casting your soundproofing spell on my room. It was a different kind of tingle than your little trap outside the mall.”

“You felt that?” she asked, looking at him seriously. She fished in her pocket dimension and came back with a medallion. There was a red spider in the center that glowed as she held it up. She handed this to Charlie. It stopped glowing momentarily as it transferred, and then began to give off a golden glow. “It seems somehow fitting you’d have more potential than I ever did.” she said with resignation. “I could teach you some, but I cannot awaken your full potential. That requires an archmage.”

“Do you want to test Akiko?”

“I admit I’m curious, but if she turns out to be gifted as well, I know of no one we could trust to teach her.”

“No harm in satisfying our curiosity.” Charlie said, kissing her. “We’ll just do it some time when you’re alone with her.”

Amelie left to get Charlie some refreshments. As she crossed the short path between the camper and the house, she made up her mind to conspire to be alone with Akiko for at least as long as it took to answer the question burning like a coal in her brain.

Kamilah was arranging volumes in the Library when she heard the door open. Iset Myrdhynn shambled in, her arms hanging limply at her sides. The lissome young Librarian’s apprentice slid down the ladder, set the other books on a nearby table, and approached the Myrdhynn with the traditional greeting on her lips. She paled when she saw that Iset Myrdhynn’s eyes were closed, her face reposed in sleep. Still, the woman’s legs propelled her through the library, turning down one aisle, sparsely populated as it was, since it was dedicated to the grimoires of fallen Myrdhynns. In fact, only twelve volumes occupied that particular shelf.

“Mistress?” she asked, tugging on the woman’s sleeve.

“Huh?” the woman asked, opening her eyes and looking around in confusion. “How did I get here?”

“Apologies, Mistress Archmage, but you were sleepwalking.” Kamilah said.

“No apologies necessary, dear.” Iset Myrdhynn said, patting the eighteen-year-old on the head. “Whatever it was, it must have pierced right through my wards as I slept.”

“I hope I didn’t botch anything.” Kamilah said. “I...didn’t think to ask my master if there was anything special I needed to do when I shelved Tashi Myrdhynn’s grimoire.”

“Not usually.” the Myrdhynn said. “I shall recommend to Ali Myrdhynn that...” Something pulsed nearby, like the heart of a living being. Kamilah’s eyes widened as she glanced up and saw the grimoire she’d shelved only that morning sitting precariously close to the edge. It pulsed again, and tumbled to the floor, landing on its spine and opening to a page near the end, where most wizards tended to keep their most powerful spells. The letters on the page glowed, a ghostly voice chanting. “Run...apprentice...get...help...” said Iset Myrdhynn, but Kamilah couldn’t muster the will to listen. She succumbed to the binding quickly, her will sealed away beyond her reach. The Myrdhynn put up a good fight, but it all came to naught. The two women stood straight, expressionless faces staring at nothing. The presence within the Grimoire of Tashi Myrdhynn commanded, and Kamilah obeyed, picking up the book and clutching it to her chest. It made Iset Myrdhynn cast a spell of transportation, and both women disappeared.