The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Don’t run.”

Amy ran.

But the ground turned all squishy. Her feet sank into it. She couldn’t get any momentum; it was like swimming in taffy. No.

Panic squirted through her like ice. She fought the ground, thrashing like an animal, some furry thing in a hawk’s beak.

She was coming.

Amy noticed that she was naked. She was in the hall outside class. The hall was lined, end to end, with everyone she had ever known. Her father. Her track coach. Her psychology professor. The woman who drove the ice cream truck when she was nine. They were watching but Amy didn’t care anymore. That had been the initial horror, but they didn’t matter now.

The tile floor gave way everywhere she stepped. She struggled out of one hole; the edge turned into another.

“It’s cute how you do that,” Celia said. No. Amy spun, fell, tried to scoot backwards on her ass.

Celia floated down the middle of the hall. She was wearing a toga; her hair was done up, pinned with flowers. The crowd backed away as she passed, then crowded in behind her, afraid but drawn to her. She was an impossible force.

Amy clawed at the slippery tile. For every inch she made, Celia made twelve.

“It’s ok,” Celia said. She reached out.

Amy screamed.

The scream woke her up. She sat bolt upright, breathing in the dark.

Just a dream.

She didn’t put it into words, but what she thought was: there is something extra terrifying about being woken by the sound of your own voice.

Wasn’t real. It was ok.

Amy went to her safe place.

“Redheads are dying out!”

Allison glanced up from her book. Celia was reading some article about, apparently, redheads.

“We are?”

“Yes! Every year less redheads are born! It’s statistical! Each generation, the races mix a little more. Scientists think that in as little as four generations, there won’t be any white or black anymore—everyone will be sort of in between.”

“Makes sense.”

“Do you understand what that means?”

“No more redheads?”

“YES!”

“What did we decide about drinking too much coffee, sweety? I like you better when you’re all smooth.”

“It means you’re special. And I’m lucky.” Celia scrutinized her. “Maybe I should record the experience for future generations. I’m so glad I’ll be dead by then.”

“We could adopt one and make sure she only dates redhead guys. It would be a family tradition.”

“But redhead guys always look a little weird.”

“This is actually kind of creeping me out. Do you have a fetish or something?” Allison’s face fell as the next thought dawned. “Is that why you picked me?”

“Don’t be silly. I didn’t pick you. You picked me.”

“I distinctly remember you picking me.”

“Look! There’s no fetish! Or there wasn’t until I met you.”

“Ok. But Baby. Girls will still be able to dye their hair.”

Celia looked as if she’d been slapped.

“Don’t say that. Dyed redheads are an abomination. They’re faked art. The only thing worse than a dyed redhead is a natural redhead that dyes her hair another color. Every time that happens, the baby Jesus cries.”

“At least you’re not obsessing.”

They went back to their respective reading.

“I saw Lindy in the park today,” Allison broke the silence after a few minutes. “She asked about you.”

“She did? Huh. She was fun.”

When she asked about you, she blushed.

“I suppose.”

Celia looked up.

“Is something wrong, baby?”

“No. Yes. I’ve been meaning to... about Lindy and... the others.”

“What others?”

“The freshman girl who moved in downstairs, for one.”

“Her? That was just for kicks. She asked me to, even.”

Actually, she asked you what your major was and you offered to show her.

“And that woman on the train.”

“Well that was totally her own fault. You dress like that, you’re just asking for someone to come along and hypnotize you.”

Allison stared.

“Kidding! I’m kidding!”

“I know...”

but if you could only see their faces after you’re done with them. They glow. They look like they’ve just had the best orgasm of their lives.

“Sweety, just tell me.” Celia walked over and drew her up out of the chair. She slipped her arms about the thin waist, resting her forearms on Allison’s hips.

“I don’t want to sound all clingy...”

“I like it when you’re all clingy.” Sometimes I say the word that makes your knees weak just so you have to cling. Your eyes go all wide and you hang on like a little koala bear or something. It’s just one more thing in the list of impossibly adorable things you do. It’s even better when you’re surprised by it.

Like the other day, you came out of the shower... Celia had snuck up, grabbed her, said the word... you made this little motion with your arm to hold up the towel, then realized you couldn’t... that moment, I live for that.

“It’s just... this thing here is kind of unique. We both have particular... turn ons.” Both girls blushed. There was no need to say any more. Allison played with her hands.

“Is that all? You think that I’m maybe...” she skipped the words, “when I...” skipped some more, “with Lindy?”

“Not necessarily, just... this is a really awkward conversation,” Allison laughed.

Celia kissed her.

“I understand. But it’s not like that. It’s just fun.”

Allison looked down at the place where their hips touched. A lock of hair dangled in front of her face.

“Can you tell me that you don’t feel anything? Nothing at all, not even a twinge, when you put some girl under and...” she swallowed, “and she doesn’t even know it? If you can, I’ll never bring it up again.”

Celia opened her mouth to say something, closed it. Opened it to say something else, closed it again. She pictured Lindy’s face in that moment when it had gone from concentration to a blank stare. Something somewhere in her wriggled.

No, she couldn’t say that.

Holy shit, it’s one shade away from fooling around on her, even if you never touch them. Why didn’t you ever think of that?

“It’s never just fun, not for us,” Allison whispered at their hips. “Alcoholics never just have a drink.”

“I never thought of it like that, honey. I wasn’t... and there were never any like you, not anything physical, I would never—”

“I know. But if we’re going to have this... I can’t think of you doing that to other girls all the time, not when it’s just for fun. The class, Amy, all that I understand. And I know you’re going to be a professional someday soon, and it’ll be your job and that’s fine too. But when it’s just for...” that feeling we both know we get “I can’t think of that.”

I get jealous.

And you should.

“I won’t anymore. I never even thought of it that way. I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“I mean... I don’t want to ask you...”

“I won’t. Not unless you’re there.”

Allison smiled despite herself. Because hey, Lindy? That was not un-fun.

I’ll be the lioness. They do the hunting but they don’t eat alone.

They had the rest of the conversation with their eyes. That was it: no drama, no argument. Celia understood. She was about to change her life because someone whom she literally could have made forget the whole thing had asked her to. You’ve got it bad, babe.

“Are we weird?” Allison asked her belly button. Celia kissed her. It was answer enough. “I’m gonna be late,” she sniffed, looking at the clock.

A bear hug later she was gone. Celia watched her cross the lawn through the window. When Allison was out of sight she left the apartment also, but not the building: she went downstairs, where the freshman girl lived. She knocked.

The door opened on a shortish girl: fair-skinned but unfreckled. Her hair was long, straight, jet black: she was Black Irish. She beamed at the visitor.

“Celia! Hey.”

“Hey Shannon,” Celia said, and reached through the door, putting her hand on the back of the girl’s neck. The girl looked confused as the hand came at her, but her eyelids sank to half mast when she felt the touch. Her arms dropped to her sides and dangled. Celia pulled her in to steady her, then walked her backwards into the apartment, holding her like a kitten by the scruff of the neck.

“We need to work on the part where I haven’t been visiting like this every day. In fact, I think we’ve never met.”

Amy drifted.

She stood on a gentle hill. Grass flowed down it into green fields that stretched out as far as she could see in every direction. She felt nice. Nothing was happening, and it felt nice.

She’d been staying here more and more lately. Why leave? It was nicer here than it was out there. The only reason she could think of to leave was that she knew she’d feel better than when she went in. Eventually the dream would slip away on its own like all daydreams have to. She used to just let it come and go when needed, but lately, she’d been holding on for as long as possible.

And lately, there had been a voice. It didn’t seem strange; it was a dream, nothing was strange. She didn’t recognize it. It always said the same things. She heard it as thoughts rather than words, and she knew the thoughts were truth. Everything here was truth and had always been. It was her safe place.

The voice said to look down. The hill was sinking. Amy didn’t mind. The voice said that if she let herself go, she could sink down with it, into the soft grass, where it was cool and quiet and away from everything. Amy thought that sounded super. She lay down and felt the ground give way.

She never heard what the voice said after that. She didn’t need to. The sky was so far away.

“Helloooo? Space case?”

“Huh?” Amy blinked.

“What is up with you lately? That’s like the third time today that you’ve gone into a coma or something.”

“Excuse me for not being riveted by whatever the hell you were babbling about.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever.”

“What. Ever.”

“See you tonight?”

“Yeah.”

Amy drifted.

“What do you mean I ‘can’t’ go?”

“It would distract the class, sweety. You’re too involved in it.”

Celia was gathering her stuff, getting ready.

“Distract my freckled ass. I want to be there to see the look on her face.”

“It’s not even your class. You’d be crashing.”

“So? Your professor won’t care. There’ll be plenty of empty seats.”

“He will care. He’s serious about some things.”

“Ok, I’ll ask him.” She headed for the door. They could argue on the way there. Celia’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“Wait.”

“See, you know he’ll say yes!”

“I know. But I still don’t want you there. It’ll upset you, baby.”

“No it won’t! It’ll the opposite of upset me! It’ll be awesome!”

“You think so, but... look, I did what I had to, but this isn’t my proudest moment. She deserves it but it’s still mean. I don’t want you there.”

“You treat me like I’m a kid sometimes.” Allison set her jaw. She was trying to look serious but it just looked so cute, Celia thought, and fought back the smile. Don’t laugh. This would be a bad time to laugh.

In some ways you are.

“Maybe I’m a little overprotective sometimes.”

“You are. And I love it, usually. You’re my knightress in shining armor. But not today. Come on, we’re going to be late.” She turned towards the door and was stopped again; Celia’s arm had found its way around her waist. She was drawn back. The grip became just a little firmer; her ass was pressed against Celia’s hips. She felt a kiss on her neck.

“Not gonna work! Immune to kisses for the next fifty minutes.”

Celia’s left arm came around, tickling her side. The hand slid up her stomach, between her breasts, and came to rest on her left shoulder. She was all wrapped up in light cocoa arms. Celia leaned her back; she was pulled off balance into body behind her. She let herself be; though, in that position, she wouldn’t have had much of an option either way. No thinking about how nice this feels! Game face! Grr! Celia’s chin was on her shoulder; she felt the cheek against her neck.

“I know you think I’m—”

“Weak,” the voice said in her ear, and Allison’s body turned to jelly. The word. Her legs gave out. The arm around her waist held her weight, and the one across her chest kept her from falling forward. She suddenly understood the purpose of the grip. Her head dropped.

“Celia... what do you think you’re doing...” The words came out slurred because her chin was resting on her chest. She couldn’t hold her head up; her entire body had become dead weight.

She felt herself being dragged backwards. One of her sandals came off as her heels caught on the carpet. She looked at the pink foot. There was nowhere else she could look.

Her body was laid on the couch. Finally she was able to look up, because her head was pointing up. Celia’s face was troubled.

“Answer me...”

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t planning on this, really baby.”

Celia’s hands were on her, arranging her limbs into a more comfortable position. Making you comfortable for a nice long nap. No! One arm dangled over the edge of the couch; it was lifted and placed at her side. Her hand was lifted and placed on her stomach.

“Don’t you dare.”

The hands slid around her hips, then underneath, lifting her, hiking her body away from the edge of the couch. Last was her right leg, which still hung over; it was lifted, placed beside the other, ankles touching. She felt the sandal come off.

Celia appeared back in her field of vision, leaning in. She put a hand on Allison’s cheek and kissed her forehead.

“Celia, don’t you dare.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t have you be there, baby.”

“Don’t you—”

“All the way down.”

The sentence died on her lips. Allison’s eyes closed. The angry air left her chest, and when she breathed in again, it was the deep breath of sleep.

Celia kissed her mouth.

You just crossed a line, sister.

What was I supposed to do?

Besides work it out like normal adults? Um.

She really hadn’t meant to. But they’d started to argue and—why did Allie have to drive her so nuts? She couldn’t be there! The professor would—ok, he wouldn’t have said anything. The class—ok, they might have given her a look or two at first, but that would have been it. But Celia just couldn’t have her there, not for this.

It’s going to be a long time before she forgives you for this. You just broke the trust.

Well, not necessarily. Suppose that it never happened, and Allie decided not to go all on her own.

You didn’t even just think that. That would be violating her mind.

But she’s going to be so mad when she wakes up, and I didn’t even mean to, I didn’t. It just slipped out, then it was too late to take back.

This way lies the dark side, Jedi. What is it they say about absolute power corrupting absolutely? When you come back you’re going to wake her up and take your medicine like a big girl.

No more time to think about it, she had to go. She squeezed Allison’s hand and was out the door.

It made her nervous to leave Allison alone for so long like that, helpless. What if the building caught fire? What if there was a burglar? Ok, there wasn’t going to be a burglar. But what if anything? Most people would wake up in an emergency, even out of a deep trance, but not an Allison trance.

She slowed as she reached the bottom step, then stopped at the outer door. She glanced over her shoulder. No time! It would be fine, nothing—

The door opened. It was Shannon, the freshman.

Kismet.

“Oh! I’m sorry, hi!” said Shannon. She had almost run smack into a pretty, dark-eyed woman. Smooth. That didn’t have freshman written all over it. “Do you live upstairs?” No, she lives in Albuquerque, she just hangs out on those stairs. Smooth.

“Yes.” The woman held out her hand. “Celia.”

“Shannon. Nice to meet you.” The woman’s grip was firm.

“This is going to sound weird, but do you have plans for the next few hours?”

“Me? Oh, hah, no, probably just studying. Why?” The woman still hadn’t let go of her hand. It was about to get awkward. And something about this was oddly familiar. She couldn’t place it. Maybe it was the smell of her perfume, or—

“That’s ok, you can bring a book,” the woman said, and pulled her hand, yanking the girl forward. In the same motion she brought her other hand up, reaching around the back of Shannon’s neck, under the jet black hair. Shannon opened her mouth, startled—was she being attacked? what—

Then she felt the touch and stopped thinking.

“I’ve got a very important job for you, Shannon.”

She had to make it to class before Amy did. Get her to go into one of her self induced trances. Stop her from going into the classroom. It would be easy, if she could get there in time. Amy had been conditioning herself all week.

It didn’t take panic-level stress to send her off anymore. Celia had set it up that way: Any would feel great each time she came out of it, and that trained her mind to go there more and more, for smaller and smaller things. Have a nightmare? Go to the safe place. Break a glass? Go to the safe place. Stub your toe? Yeah, go to the safe place.

And eventually, go there for no reason at all.

And every time, the instructions Celia left behind would sink in deeper. Some were just to make it easier to slip away the next time. Others were about the class. When Amy stood up in front of everyone, it would happen. Celia still didn’t know what Amy would say, exactly; that would depend on how deeply she’d conditioned herself.

It was genius, and she would have been proud if she didn’t suddenly feel so bad about it. The thing with Allie had left a bad taste in her mouth. It was all getting too out of control. She’d been starting little fires everywhere, and she’d pulled the batteries out of everyone’s smoke detectors.

She was late. Maybe Amy would be late. Hell, everyone was going to be late, it was that time of year.

There was a sizable crowd of stragglers outside the brick monolith that housed the lecture hall. Good. She hurried inside, her natural togetherness not so together. Didn’t matter. The room was only a quarter full, no professor and no brainwashed cheerleaders. Good. She spun to guard the door and ran face first into Amy.

“Jesus Christ, do you see a fucking fire here?” Amy cuffed.

If you only knew.

“Amy. I need to talk to you.”

“I’ve done my time, fag. Thank god there were fifty witnesses to why I agreed to spend time with you in the first place.” She tried to push past. Celia blocked the door.

“Amy. Please. Just listen for one minute, outside.”

“No. I don’t want any of these dweebs to think we’re cooking the books. And after today, if you ever come up to me with your Princess Jasmine getup and try to talk all mysterious, I’m going to break your nose, because you’re just about that tall where it would be easy.”

A small knot of people had bunched up behind her, unable to get in. Shit. Celia had planned on slapping her, grabbing her, anything to shock her into a trance, and from there she would work her magic. But not with ten people watching.

“Look. No one’s going to think anything about it, because that little cloud of gawkers can see us. Just sixty seconds, that’s all. Ok?”

Amy looked over her shoulder at the line that had formed.

“Fine.”

They left the doorway but half of the line remained, watching.

“Did you watch the tape?” Celia said under her breath.

“Yeah, I spent two hours watching myself sit on a couch. Are you high?”

Of course she hadn’t watched the tape. The instructions had been not to.

“I’ve got a copy right here, loaded into the camera. You can see it if you look into the view thingy. Watch it, just a minute of it. It’s paused at the important part.”

“Why?”

“You lost, Amy. You did go into a trance. You’re in a trance right now, sort of, except I can’t really get to you unless something sets you off first. And if you go in there, it will set it off.”

Amy gaped, because there were just so many scathing replies to this insanity.

“You are really sad, you know that? Puppy dog with a broken leg stuck in a snowbank sad.”

“I’m serious,” Celia said through her teeth, trying to keep her voice below the level the onlookers could hear. “Please. Don’t go in there. We can both skip class. I’ll come with you, even, so you know that I’m not going to turn around and say you ran out. We’ll go to some neutral place until class is over.”

“You’re embarrassing yourself. Which is funny, but I wish you would speak up so everyone could hear.” She turned towards the door.

Celia grabbed her arm.

“Don’t.”

Amy looked down at the hand and smiled. She wrenched her arm away and strode into the lecture hall.

That went well.

Amy walked to the podium.

The bell rang.

“Um,” she looked at the clock. “Were we that late? Heh.”

Half of the class gaped at her; the other half whispered to each other. Nervous laughs peppered the audience. Celia’s face was white.

The professor’s face was red.

“Amy. Celia. In my office, now. Class dismissed.”

The class didn’t dismiss; they kept watching.

“Um?” Amy said. He stalked out. She followed. Celia came last, gathering her things.

“I thought you were serious about this. We set aside time today that we could have spent on something else,” he said, once they were behind the closed doors of the office.

“I don’t understand,” Amy said. “It—I know I was late, but so was everyone else—”

“That’s very funny. I expected more, from you of all people.”

“What? I—is it because I yelled at Celia in the hall? What did I do?”

He looked at her. The bewilderment was genuine. He turned to Celia.

“She really doesn’t know?”

“She really doesn’t.”

“What are you talking about?“

“Amy, please wait outside.”

“But—”

“Please. I’ll speak with you later.”

Amy stood and looked at Celia, who looked at her lap. She exited.

The professor gave Celia a long look.

“I see that you taped that little circus,” he said. “I want you to make a copy for Amy. And I think I’d like to see the tape of your session with her now.”

“Of course.”

“Celia, what possessed you to make her say things like that? You could have done something playful, like, I don’t know. Make her think her hands were stuck together or something.”

“I didn’t pick what she would say. I just had her... riff on what she was thinking. I thought it would be funny, ‘cause you know, she’s such a bitch.”

“Well, the inside of someone’s mind is not always a nice place.” He sat on the desk and regarded her. “You’re very talented. You’re not only the best in my class, you’re the best out of any class in the seven years I’ve been here. I understand what you did there—you tricked her into putting herself under. Given how you two girls feel about each other, that was a feat.

“But you need to be careful with what you do. I don’t think you realize the power you can have over people. If you use it for things like what I saw today, you’ll be walking down a path that would be both a waste of your mind,” he glanced at the door, “and others’.

“The year’s almost over. You’ve got your A+. I don’t think it’ll be necessary for you to come back.”

“But... what? I can’t come back but Amy can?”

He looked at her, unbelieving.

“Do you really think she would?”

“Going down the wrong path, he tells me. What path? There is no path. Is there a path?”

“No,” Shannon said to the wall.

“Thank you. The thing with Amy went badly, I know. But that’s not a path. That’s a driveway, maybe a cul-de-sac. Right?”

“Yes.”

“She made me have a fight with Allie. That’s not a path either, that was a mistake, that I’m going to fix. Both situations are fixable. What are the situations?”

“They’re fixable.”

It was kind of fun having someone to talk to that didn’t talk back. She’d never want Allie to be that way; she loved her, even when she was being impossible. But Shannon, kinda fun.

“And you. I didn’t do anything bad to you, did I?”

“No.”

“I mean, look,” she gestured at the open math book on the table. “What kind of evil mind controller makes someone do their math homework while in a trance? The kind that’s not evil, that’s what. I bet you got all the answers right too, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And when you had that test last week, I put you under and told you you’d ace it, perfect score. And what was your score?”

“One hundred out of one hundred.”

“See? I know I didn’t ask your permission to put you under that day. Or, ok, any time except the first. But the result is good! You’re a whiz at things you failed at before. The ends justify the means.

“If I had asked you before I did it, today, you would have said yes, right? To both the trance and the watching Allison while I was gone?”

“Yes.”

“And the other day (when I totally made you drop your groceries, sorry), you would have said yes, right?”

“No.”

“And... what? You would have said yes, right?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I was tired and just wanted to relax on the couch. I like Celia, she’s like a big sister, but I just wanted to be alone. Then she did the thing where she touches me and my brain turned to mush and I forgot how to work my body.”

Celia paused.

“No, that’s not how it works. If you didn’t want it to happen, it wouldn’t have.”

Shannon stared at the wall.

“You felt better when you woke up, right?”

“Yes.”

“See, ends justify the means.”

Shannon stared at the wall.

“Shannon. If you didn’t want it to happen, it wouldn’t happen, right?”

“Yes, it would still happen.”

You can change what someone wants.

“No! No, it doesn’t work like that. I’ll show you. Imagine that you’re standing in the hallway. You don’t want to go into a trance. Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“Now imagine that I walk up to you and do the thing that puts you under. Picture it. You don’t want to be hypnotized today. I approach you and try to do it. What happens?”

“You touch me and a gray fog is suddenly all over me, and I can’t move or think, so I wait for you to think for me.” The girl sighed. “You have to hold me up because sometimes I fall. It feels nice to be held up by something strong. Everything lets go because it can, for the first time ever. There’s no me. Everything is going to be ok because something holds me up. I can’t see her face because my head won’t go up, but I know that she would never drop me.”

Dear, you didn’t accidentally give this girl a hypnofetish, did you?

Don’t be stupid, me.

When she’s like this, you’re everything. You don’t think there’s a chance that, if you did it to someone for a long period of time like you have to this girl—every day around lunchtime—you don’t think they might start to enjoy it at that level? It’s a new life for her. Everyone inherits themselves from their parents.

“This thing you feel... it’s not sexual, right sweety?”

Shannon furrowed her brow. She didn’t understand the question.

She doesn’t understand the question because they’re becoming one in the same.

“I mean, you don’t... when it happens, it doesn’t turn you on, right?” I didn’t twist your brain into wanting me, did I?

“Not to Celia, no.”

“Good.”

“To the everything about it... yes.”

Oh.

“I wake up sometimes and I don’t know where I am at first... I feel wonderful, like there’s something warm behind my eyes... I don’t even want to move, but I know I’ll have to, because I can feel a wet spot and I don’t want it to stain... it’s cold because the moment is gone, it’s just a deja vu of something glowing and powerful that took me, and something inside me dies a little and I try so hard to get it back, to remember it, but I can’t.

“It’s like there’s something in the corner of my eye, but if I try to look right at it, it disappears... I know it’s there, and I keep turning... sometimes if I try hard enough I can go back, all on my own, without Celia... but it’s never the same. I wake up again and my muscles are tired from the squeezing...”

Shannon swayed on her feet. Celia rushed to steady her.

“Shannon, stop.”

Shannon stopped.

You melted her little brain. What did you do?

Not possible. What she’s describing are archetypal feelings, they’re in every human mind. Junior psychology. You didn’t do this because it’s not possible.

Like Amy wasn’t possible?

One strand of the girl’s long hair had gotten loose and stuck to her cheek. Celia fixed it.

How are you gonna fix this? Gonna have her sleep it off? It’s the middle of the afternoon.

“You’re going to go back to your apartment, lie down in bed, and count to one hundred, Shannon. As you count, the memory of today, and the other days, will fade away. They’re just dreams, they’re not real. When you reach one they will be completely gone until I ask you to remember them.

“You’ll remember my hand on the back of your neck,” Celia put her hand there, drawing the girl in to keep her from falling, “and what happens when you feel that, like always.”

Reinforcement. Shannon didn’t answer, which was the right answer.

“Good girl. Go.”

Shannon walked in slow motion to the door, had some brief trouble trying to work the doorknob, and stumbled into the hall.

Celia watched her. She wondered if it was ok for Shannon to be walking down stairs in that state. She closed the door, turned, and saw the math book, still open on the table.

Perfect score. See? You’re doing good things here.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Allison opened her eyes. A very pretty girl who happened to be her girlfriend was leaning over her. That there was a nice feeling.

“Hey,” she smiled.

“Have any nice dreams?”

“You were naked, chasing a double-decker bus in London.”

“Did I catch it?”

“It turned into a deer and jumped into a storm drain.”

“Aww.” Celia kissed her shoulder.

“How was your class thing?”

“Oh, you know.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t go. Just the thought of it...” she wrinkled her nose. “Blech. I’m sure she got what was coming. That’s enough.”

“Yes.”

Celia kissed her hand, but her face looked pained.

“Everything all right, ginger snap?”

“Yeah. Long day.”

Celia didn’t sleep well.

On the third day after the class, the phone rang.

“Hi, I’m looking for Cecelia or Allison?”

“It’s just Celia, and this is she.”

“There’s a girl in my building, Amy. I was told you might know her, or might be the one who...”

“Who might...?”

Awkward silence on the other end of the line.

“People are about to call the cops. I was told you might know what’s wrong with her.”

“Cops, what? What’s going on?”

“For the past few days she’s been... doing weird things. Yesterday I found her walking around the building naked. She didn’t seem to understand me when I talked to her. I got her back to her room, but, there’s been other things. Some people have been talking about calling the psych ward and having her brought in for a... checkup or something. Her family’s rich, they can afford the doctors, but, no one knows who to call. We don’t want to call a hospital, but...”

“Slow down. Is she in her room now?”

“Yes.” The voice on the other end of the line fumbled. “What happened to her? You’re the one, right? That did it?”

“Don’t let anyone in or out of her room. I’ll be right there.”

“Amy.”

Celia had her by the shoulders.

“Amy. I need you to wake up.”

Amy went to her safe place.

Amy was naked from the waist up. And from the waist down, except for white silk panties that looked like they hadn’t been changed all week. They were soaked through. Her hair was in knots; her makeup had been rubbed off.

The apartment smelled of woman. It had hit Celia like a wall when she came in. Not perfume. Woman.

Dishes were piled up in the sink and on the floor. Empty pizza boxes and food containers were scattered around the apartment. The microwave door stood open. An empty beer can lay on the carpet; it had obviously been at least half full when it was dropped.

Most of the debris was gathered around the computer. It was there that Celia had found her.

The video of the class was playing in an endless loop. Behind it, in the upper left corner of the screen, played the video of their session. It was just background music, though. The real action was the class tape.

“Hi. I’m Amy, and I’m better than all of you shitstains,” she said from the podium.

“Fuck you too!” a female voice called from the back of the hall. Laughter sprinkled the audio.

“No thanks. From what your boyfriend told me while I was fucking him, it’s not much of an experience.”

Oh, snap! someone shouted.

“He was bored and lonely because you’re such a prude, so I gave him a ride. He has a birthmark on his right ass cheek and he makes a noise like a donkey when he jizzes.”

Real silence.

“The only thing that keeps me going sometimes is knowing that I’m better than all of you. I like cheerleading, because in the stadium, you can look up and the place is just filled with so many losers who aren’t you.”

Whatever, someone mumbled.

“I never mess up. I can’t. But sometimes I imagine that I do... I trip on the way out to the field and fall flat on my face, or forget a cheer... and every time I think that, I cum a little bit.”

The camera jerked as the camerawoman sat up.

“I’ve never even had an orgasm with a guy. It’s always afterwards. He’ll be asleep or I’ll be in the bathroom, and I’ll think of how much I hate him, and then it’ll happen. If he was a real asshole, or did something to make me feel bad, then it’ll really happen.

“I’m probably going to imagine this very class, looking up at all of you, and it’ll happen then too. I don’t know why. It’s not something that’s really even sexy. It just happens.

“You,” she pointed to a guy in the front row, “I think you’re uglier than a bat’s asshole, but if you were to do something like, say, trip me on the way out and laugh, I’d have to masturbate for at least a half hour when I got home, probably longer.”

Fifty people gaped. The camera jerked again as the camerawoman got up and said something to the professor, someplace out of frame and to the left.

Celia rolled the computer chair, with Amy still in it, away from the computer and closed the videos.

“Nnnnn,” Amy said. One hand was in the silk panties. A stranger was watching her masturbate, and she couldn’t stop. She went to her safe place.

Someone slapped her. Celia. They were standing up; her back was against the wall. Celia had slapped her and she couldn’t stop her from doing it again if she wanted to. She went to her safe place.

“AMY.” Celia shook her. Amy’s eyes focused, saw her, rolled up.

She’s in a feedback loop. What did you do?

She’s been watching that tape over and over for days, going in and out of her safe place until there wasn’t a line between it and reality anymore. You set it up like that so you could win the bet, but you didn’t think of what would happen to her afterwards. And there isn’t even a way to shut it off.

Looks like you are a genius after all. Too bad you’re more like the guy who invented the A-bomb than the guy who, say, cured Polio.

Amy started to slide down the wall. Celia tightened her grip. Amy moaned.

“Can you hear me? Amy. Focus.” Amy’s eyes opened, seemed to see her. “Good. Stay with me.” Amy whined, shivered.

Celia looked down. Amy’s hand was in the panties, working. She was focusing all right.

“Goddamnit.” Celia grabbed her wrist and pinned it against the wall. It was slick; the girl’s stomach was too, and so were her thighs. She must have dragged it all over herself as she changed hands; she was damp with three days worth of her own juices. It was like wrestling a fish. Amy came again as the hand tightened on her wrist.

“Nnnnn...”

She attacked herself with the other hand. Celia seized it too, slammed it against the wall. Amy shivered again. Celia had her pinned to the wall to keep her from getting off and that made it happen again and her eyes unfocused and rolled up again. She slid down the wall; this time, Celia couldn’t stop it.

Oh my god. You’re going to have to tie her up just so you can talk to her. The hands flitted like birds and she began to rub her legs together.

“Stop that!”

Celia was telling her to stop something, she was doing something bad, but she couldn’t remember and didn’t care what it was, and here was this woman who she hated acting like an authority figure to her, with actual physical force, and then she did the thing she was supposed to not do again and she went to her safe place (or had she ever left it? No, everyplace was safe now, and she did the thing again)—

Then her face was on the carpet, her breasts pressed against it, and the suddenness of having anything touch her made her lose it again. Her hands were behind her back; something wrapped around her wrists and tightened. It felt like a phone cord. Which was good, because she really wasn’t in any condition to be answering phones. NO, she needed her hands! They began to work furiously. But absurdly, they didn’t try to get loose: they reached under and around, trying to get back into her. Celia sat her up, propped her against the wall.

Listen. Can you hear me?

Amy couldn’t, but she read the words on Celia’s lips. She couldn’t get at herself from behind; Celia had tied her with the wrists facing out. She twisted her hands and dug her nails into her ass instead.

“I need you to work with me so I can stop this. Do you understand?”

Part of Amy’s brain understood and didn’t like it. She was free for the first time in her life. Something touched her lips. A glass.

“Drink. You’re dehydrated.”

Three days’ worth of orgasms will do that to a girl.

Amy allowed the water to pour down her throat. She didn’t swallow.

“I need my hands. Give me my hands,” she croaked. She probably hadn’t spoken actual words in days.

“No. That’s the opposite of what you need to do right now.”

“Then touch me,” she pleaded. “You’ll like it. You’re a lesbian.” It made perfect sense in Amy-logic.

“Right, which naturally means I can’t resist fingering every cheerleader I pass on the street.”

Amy looked up hopefully.

Um, sweety? I don’t think Amy is quite able to grasp sarcasm at the moment. Maybe you should use smaller words.

“I’m not going to do that,” Celia clarified.

“Please?”

“No.”

“I have money...” and her eyes crossed as the words came out because she had just offered money to someone she hated to get them to touch her, and then she didn’t need the hand, the world turned gray, then Celia had her by the chin, holding her head up, and her eyes focused even though she didn’t want them to. She rubbed her thighs together, trying to get friction, any friction. Celia’s brown eyes were inches away. Amy looked at them dully, not connecting. They were just things. Pretty things, but just things.

I can’t believe I’m about to do this, Celia thought.

“I’ll touch you if you listen and let me help you. Ok?”

Amy whined.

“Ok?”

“Yes anything justdoitplease...”

“I want you to let me make you forget, and put you back the way you were.”

“N-n-o—”

“It’s the only way. You can’t live like this.”

That was fine with Amy. She could writhe on the carpet until she died. The video, she needed the video back on. She could watch it from down here until she died. It would be easier than sitting in the chair. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? She ground her ass into the carpet. Oh, friction. She bent her hips back and down. She could almost—

Celia slipped an arm under her knees, folding her legs up and leaning her back farther. Keeping her pussy off of the carpet. No! NO! She’d been so close, so close... she whimpered.

“Don’t make me tie your legs too.”

That wasn’t such a bad idea, Amy thought, and—

Celia’s hand, the one on her chin, squeezed.

“No drifting off.”

Jesus, was there any way she could tie the girl so that something wouldn’t be rubbing on something else? Plaintive sounds came from Amy’s throat.

“Let me make you forget.”

“Won’t matter. Everyone else will remember.”

“I talked to the professor. He’ll tell them that I made you do it, that you were reciting from a script that I wrote for you.” And they’ll believe him, because it’s a lot more believable than what actually happened.

“There are others... yesterday I think I... I don’t remember, but I think I was outside, naked... someone brought me back...”

“You don’t even know those people, they just live in the same building. You’re about to graduate and never see any of them again.”

“But...”

“No more buts. That’s it. It’ll be done. I bought you a bus ticket. Look.” Celia held it in front of her eyes and pointed to the destination. “That’s where you’re from, right? When we’re done you’re going to get on a bus and go home until graduation. You can come back for the ceremony if you feel like it, or not if you don’t.”

“I have a car...”

“I don’t really want you operating heavy machinery right now.”

“But... when I wake up, I’ll wonder... why I’m on a bus and not in my car...”

“I know something about engines. I’ll unplug something. You’ll think it broke down.”

“Ok. But first...” Her eyes searched Celia’s with the uttermost need. “Touch me.”

“Ok.”

Celia’s hand moved between her legs and forced them open. Amy was too weak to do it on her own. The hand moved up her slick thighs. Celia watched the blue eyes that used to be so cold. Amy seemed to look back, but she wasn’t really there. Her entire being was wherever Celia touched. She’s a lesbian, I bet she really knows how to—

The fingers were in her, they searched, found the spot. White light exploded behind her eyes. Her mind folded in on itself and she knew no more. That version of Amy went to sleep and never woke up again.

Celia cleaned Amy’s apartment while she slept. She deleted the movies and took the discs. She made Amy give her the username and password for all of her email accounts, then she went through them, one by one, and deleted everything about the last few days. It was mostly friends wondering what the hell was up. She sent them all short replies so that they wouldn’t ask again. She deleted all of Amy’s voicemails, then called her cellphone provider and canceled her account. She wouldn’t need it at home.

There was still the possibility of someone finding Amy and asking her “strange” questions about the last few days, but, she now had stories in her head to deal with that. Amy wouldn’t come back for graduation. She’d have “food poisoning” that day.

She passed Shannon in the hall yet again.

“Hi!” The girl cocked her head. “Um, I’m so sorry, have we met?”

I haven’t decided yet. That would be up to Allison. It would have to be. She’d crossed enough lines for one week.

Little fires, all over town, and you stole all the smoke detectors. She was going to put them all out, one by one.

She passed the girl without saying anything, went up the stairs, opened the door to her apartment. No, not hers; it was their apartment now.

“We have to talk.”