The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Kevin smiled. Captain Taylor, I know all about you now. I even know where you live.

SoldjrFindr.com was a subscription website to help active-duty Army people find other active-duty Army people.

The good news for any member was that he could get information through SoldjrFindr that Google never heard of.

The bad news was that before a member could get all this juicy info, he had to become a member, which was a hassle. Besides prepaying the annual fee, a membership-applicant had to snail-mail a notarized photocopy of his active-duty ID card, his retiree ID card, or his DD-214 discharge. SoldjrFindr wanted all spies, scammers, and spammers kept out!

Kevin had joined the site years ago, in order to keep track of his Vietnam buddies who also had joined the site, as well as Vietnam friends who had gone “the full thirty” and retired. Kevin also enjoyed reading the discussion threads.

Now, with his neighbors kidnapped by Army Captain Taylor, Kevin had a new use for his SoldjrFindr membership.

After Egbert and Bethany left the house, Kevin went to SoldjrFindr.com and logged in. Only a few minutes later, Kevin was eyeing a photo of Captain Lourdes Taylor. SoldjrFindr told Kevin that Lourdes Taylor was company commander for Antares Company, Fourth Special Missions Battalion, Fort Carver.

One minutes after finding this datum, Kevin had Lourdes Taylor’s home address. Thanks to Google Earth, Kevin even knew what her house looked like.

Alas, searching for info about the Fourth Special Missions Battalion got Kevin zilch, even when he used SoldjrFindr. Kevin couldn’t find out so much as a whisper about that outfit. Not a surprise, if they were assigned to fight Zlarians.

After the Army had gotten its hands on nineteen-year-old Kevin, he’d been sent to Fort Lewis in Washington for Basic, then to Camp Crocket and Fort Benning in Georgia for jump-training. After all that but before going to Vietnam, he’d taken leave, and Kevin had felt zero interest in finally seeing the inside of his hometown’s Army post.

Private MacDonald had set foot in Fort Carver exactly once, to shop at the PX. The next time that Kevin had seen the main gate of Fort Carver, he’d become a Vietnam vet and a civilian.

What did Kevin’s own history mean for rescuing Judy and Karen? Kevin had been on-post at Fort Carver only once. If the Fourth Special Missions Battalion had even been present in 1971, which was doubtful, Kevin hadn’t noticed it.

All of which meant that now Kevin had no idea where the 4th SMB was headquartered on post, and what kind of facilities they had.

He’d never ever laid eyes on the 4th SMB, Google was no help, and SoldjrFindr wasn’t telling him shit. How was he supposed to get near Judy and Karen, much less free them, when he was suffering from a total intelligence failure?

Kevin sighed. He had already planned to hypnotically “recruit” Antares Company’s first sergeant, in order to create confusion and diversions. Now it looked like Kevin would need to pump the guy for information too.

After three minutes of using SoldjrFindr, Kevin had the home address of Sergeant First Class George McGuy. Fortunately for Kevin, McGuy lived off-post.

McGuy was in his forties, and fit. He stood in the open doorway of his house and repeated dully, “You trust the old man. You believe anything the old man tells you, and you’ll do anything the old man tells you to do. You’ll answer any question the old man asks with the whole truth and nothing but the truth, even if the truth is Top Secret.”

“Did you say something, Georgie?” a woman’s voice called out from inside the house.

This was bad for Kevin. Shit, if she gets a look at my face, but she’s too far away for me to hypnotize, I’m fucked!

Kevin murmured, “Make her think everything’s fine, but you need to leave the house for a while.”

McGuy called back, “Heather, the Duty Officer’s got a wastebasket fire, and he needs me to put it out.”

“Gotcha,” the woman’s voice said. “Call if you’ll miss dinner.”

Hearing those words, Kevin relaxed. A little.

Five minutes later, the RV was parked in the parking lot of a Burger Johnny’s. A minute later, McGuy’s pickup truck drove onto the lot. Twenty seconds after that, McGuy was sitting in the passenger seat of Kevin’s RV.

Because Burger Johnny’s had gone bust, no customers, employees, or surveillance cameras were watching the RV or the pickup at the moment. Kevin had no wish to harm McGuy’s career if he could avoid it, which meant that Kevin and McGuy must not be seen together.

Not seen together, but Kevin needed to spend time with McGuy, to pump him for information.

Kevin offered McGuy a cold can of Coke from the RV fridge. After all, if Kevin was going to maybe ruin McGuy’s Army career, the least that Kevin could do in return was to be a good host!

Kevin had never expected, when he’d started questioning McGuy, to hear too much information. Five minutes in, Kevin was saying, “The FBI has gizmos?”

McGuy said, “Orders of the president. We were ordered to make copies of all plans and technical manuals for the A-667KPK, and hand the copies over to the FBI.”

Kevin sighed. “Anybody else have the Army-version hypno-talkers besides the FBI?”

“Officially I don’t know. But we’ve given our one-day training class to FBI agents, CIA agents, and a hot blonde who was working for the Obama reelection campaign.”

Kevin, stared, appalled. Then he shook his head. “Tell me about you guys chasing Martians.”

As 1SG McGuy explained it, usually the Special Missions Battalions had fifteen minutes’ warning when a Zlarian spaceship landed. Usually the landing site was in another state, so fertile women had long since been kidnapped when the 4th SMB showed up. But this time, the fool Zlarians had landed a spaceship in the 4th SMB’s hometown.

Kevin was confused. “If you get there long after the Zlarians have taken the women, then how do you rescue the women? Isn’t that your mission?”

McGuy shrugged. “Yes, except we usually don’t rescue the women. This is the first time we’ve managed it. Our secondary objective is to cover up all evidence of alien kidnappings, and usually that’s all we achieve.”

Kevin stared, openmouthed.

Finally Kevin said to McGuy, “How do you train for something like this? What special skills do you have for chasing Zlarians, First Sergeant?”

McGuy laughed. “Besides parachute skills, leadership skills, and knowing how to jump out of helicopters? Beats me. But I did call up my detailer at the end of my last tour, and told him to give me someplace really different.”

“From what? What did you do before here?”

“I was the first sergeant for Lancers Company, Fifth Assault Battalion,” said McGuy, “101st Aviation Regiment, 101st Combat Aviation Brigade.”

Kevin looked at 1SG McGuy and asked, “So where are my neighbors being held at?”

McGuy shrugged. “At the captain’s house, off-post.”

Kevin blinked. “Why is Taylor holding them there?”

The sergeant’s voice turned wooden: “Captain Taylor is a graduate of West Point. She knows what she is doing. I will not question her orders with regards to the debriefees.”

Kevin slumped back against the driver’s seat. “Holy shit.”

A few minutes later, Kevin had squeezed Sergeant McGuy for all the good information he could.

Kevin took a few seconds to think about what he’d just learned. Then he scooped up his home-made hypno-talker and freshened McGuy’s obedience programming.

Kevin gave new orders to Taylor’s first sergeant.

Fifteen seconds after Kevin finished that, McGuy was walking across the Burger Johnny’s parking lot to his pickup. Meanwhile, Kevin and his huge RV were driving away.

Kevin drove back to his own house, and shut off the engine. Kevin wouldn’t start up the RV again till around eight o’clock that evening.

When it would be full dark outside.

Kevin’s land-line phone rang at 5:01. The only reason that Kevin answered it was because he loved to mess with telemarketers. Everyone else called him on his smartphone.

Kevin went to the kitchen, answered the phone, and said, “I don’t want any.”

“Kevin? Thank god you’re home! This is Sam Miller.”

“Hey, guy, you at the airport? Need a ride?”

Sam said, “No, I’m still in Oregon. But what’s the deal with Judy and Karen? They’re not answering their phones!”

Oh shit, Kevin thought.

Aloud he said, “Sam, there’s a problem, but I’m handling it. Don’t worry.”

“What problem? What’s going on? What’s wrong with my wife and child?”

“Guy, if I told you now, over the phone, you’d think I was lying to you. Or joking. Or crazy.”

“Stop right there. I’m Judy’s husband and Karen’s father, and I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“I have everything covered. Trust me.”

“No. I need more than that, I need answers. What if whatever happened to them happens to you?”

Oh, I doubt very much that Captain Taylor would make me a sex-slave in her house. Nah, she’d just kill me. Aloud Kevin said, “Tell you what. On my back steps is a molded concrete frog. If you don’t hear from me again, when you get back home, come into my backyard. Under the frog will be an envelope, which will explain everything.”

“Jeez, Kevin, you’re scaring me. Are they dead?”

“I don’t think so. But I might be dead in a few hours, which is why I’m leaving you the envelope.”