The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Myla looked up. “Fuck me”, she said. “That’s him”.

She was a little gothic pixie chick with emo-anime pink hair, sitting with her comparatively mature friend, Edith.

Across the table, Edith took a glance. “Mr. Ponytail?”

Myla hissed back, ”Not so loud!”

The stranger stood at the local bus stop, within eyeshot of the two women from inside the restaurant. He kept glancing at his traditional looking watch while he waited, one foot tapping along.

Edith chuckled. “What are you looking so excited about?". She hadn’t seen Myla so worked up over a male person since...high school. Basically, since ever. Knowing that Myla couldn’t stand radio silence, Edith awaited explanation.

“Okay...remember the convention?”

“Yeah. That was when the salon had me closing every weekend, and I couldn’t make it...”

Myla nodded. “It’d been a mess. I couldn’t even get a cosplay together, I went as myself. Anyways, I’d agreed to meet up with some guys I knew through...er, a group. But when I showed up, there was nobody there but ‘Mr. Ponytail’.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Wait. Was he your internet boyfriend?“

“No!” Myla said, in the harshest of whispers. “I didn’t even recognize his username. That was the weird bit. One of the weird bits, I mean. He was just like any other regular, he even knew our in-jokes from the super-members forum. But I’d never seen him around before: Not on the forum, and definitely not in the other meet-ups we’ve had. It was so weird.“

“Alright. So, what happened? Did you guys hit it off, or is this him stalking you?”

Myla stared at her softly fizzing drink, as if to discern some omen from it. “Ugh...Dee...”

The internal struggle was plain. But what was it that Myla didn’t want Edith to know?

She’d thought he was cute, Myla remembered, his oval face, his shambling tall-ness, his embarrassed and astonished expressions. She’d been embarrassed too, when she finally came to the conclusion that her friends were not going to show up.

But this guy really was from the forum.

His username was “TicToc” and his name was Monk. It was already the afternoon, and Myla tried to decide whether or not she should just ditch the guy. In the end, though, they decided to make the best of the pathetic no-show.

Part of what made Myla comfortable (, or uncomfortable) about Monk was that she didn’t know what his fetish was. Everyone on the Amazing Erotic Mind Control forum was into EMC, of course. But Myla couldn’t tell if he was a romantic, a sadist, a dom, a sub, gay, straight, anything. (Of course, he seemed passive(?), but in her experience it wasn’t as simple as that to tell whether someone liked top or bottom).

She guessed by his username that he might be into pocket-watch hypnosis, and that would certainly fit into the time lord thing he had going on (he’d been wearing his ubiquitous trenchcoat, he’d been cosplaying as himself too).

But he never gave away anything, except for his surprise at seeing a female EMC fetishist. “I wonder why more girls don’t speak up,” he said. “I think it’s brave of you to be so honest about it.” Myla felt patronized, and at the same time noticed he wasn’t nearly so ‘brave’ about it.

All she said was, “Thanks, pal”, not sure what to make of this guy.

And so, they wandered into the central dealer’s room. They were both geeks, but his thing was Star Wars, and her thing was anime. Their only apparent common ground was video games, and so they talked World of Warcraft (both had logged an embarrassing number of hours), “actual damn Warcraft” (turned out they both liked Warcraft III), Fable (a vice they were both unabashedly indulgent in), and Final Fantasy (are you sure you aren’t into anime?).

They never talked about their fetish, half because Monk had never said anything and half because Myla had been with AEMC long enough that she didn’t expect the whole meeting to be shop talk. What these meetups ultimately meant to Myla was a chance to hang out with people who, in some ways, she felt closer to than Edith.

So they talked and looked at some prints, then finally got to the games section. There was a tournament going on, apparently, with a lineup that was way too long. “What’s going on? I can’t even tell what game they’re playing!” Myla shouted to Monk, who was right beside her.

“Super Smash Bros, I think. If we stand in that line, we’ll miss lunch”, he said.

“Well, let’s see if there’s any games free at the back!” Myla said.

“Sounds good. Whatever suits you,” he replied.

Looking back, maybe that’s where things had gotten weird. Monk had changed since they’d arrived at the games section.

Anyways, it really was less crowded at the back, with only a few consoles taken. There were arcade games, computer games, some dealers had even set up little TVs next to the games they were selling. There was a lot to choose from.

“Wow, look, it’s a DDR machine!” Myla said. “Heh, thanks, but you don’t wanna see me dance.” Monk said.

There weren’t many other multiplayer games. Monk pointed some single player games out, but she was certain it’d be awkward if one of them was playing while the other just stood there. Besides, Myla was competitive. Monk was keeping a cool distance from her for some reason; what Myla felt as a patronizing, chauvinistic distance. Myla would love to put this guy in his place. She wanted it especially since they were getting along so well, otherwise.

They wound their way around the circuit until Monk suddenly stopped. Myla turned around to see him by a fighting game that she didn’t recognize. It’s aesthetic was kind of anime, kind of cool. Was it MUGEN, maybe? Myla waited, but Monk still wasn’t saying anything. “Hey, what’s this?” she asked, wondering why he seemed so embarrassed. He said quietly, “You said you wanted to play a multiplayer game, right?” It was on an unmanned, otherwise empty table, an old blocky TV sitting on top of an antiquated desktop computer.

“Well yeah, pal.” She laughed. “You wanna try this one?” And he nodded seriously.

“Let’s go, then!” she said, picking up one of the bulky controllers, and made a face as she familiarized herself with the buttons.

“What stage are we gonna pick?” He asked. “There’s a cloudy one, a castle one, a...what is that one, again?”

“Let’s just do random”, she said. “Duh”. She stuck her tongue out and laughed.

The cute chiptune music faded out and changed as the game began. The scene loaded a ruined city. Myla suddenly realized her mistake: Monk’s character wasn’t there, this must be single player mode or something. She was just about to flick out when he said, “We can take turns. We gotta get used to the controls before we can face each other, anyways.” She furrowed her brow doubtfully as she tested a couple of kicks. “Are you sure you wanna play as a cutesy moe moe girl?” Actually, she’d chosen a gothic, lolita, stern-looking angel, with one black wing and one white wing, and a little cracked-in-half heart symbol floating above her head. It was certainly a moe moe little thing, but not a shuuga shuuga kandii kandii explosion or anything like that. He took one look and said “I can handle it”. She laughed. And, just like that, they were starting to have fun again.

The game was obviously not from a big production studio or anything. It had a patchy, glitchy feel to it, and though it never interfered with the fighting she noticed some stuttery things in the background. Nothing major enough to fix, she guessed. Otherwise it was pretty cool. She moved and while everything still looked like a regular fighting game, it looked like the gameplay had lapsed into some kind of sidescroller. It must have been a different mode, or something. There were little flying eye-bat things (Goddamned Bats) that she dispatched with some high kicks and cool powers. They laughed at the little heart explosion things her attacks gave out, it was just too kawaii. Monk didn’t even know what the word “kawaii” meant. He really didn’t know shit about anime stuff.

At first it was pretty funny like that, but then it got tough. The eyeball monsters were replaced by cyclop-ses, and the platforms got more and more twisty. Myla felt bad for leaving Monk behind in a respect, but dammit if she wasn’t going to beat this level! She was really into it by now, barely thinking, all intuition. Her heart was actually pounding by the time she reached the end, and she had a profound sense of anticlimax as the screen faded out. When the scene appeared again, she was back at the beginning, with Monk’s character showing.

“Wow, I’m in for it now, eh?” he said, and she smiled weakly. “Your turn,” she said.

Myla tried to relax a little as she watched him play, still feeling a little guilty. She noticed that he took it a little slower and safer than she had. Monk was a good player, Myla decided, but she bet he wouldn’t stand a chance against her. She asked him, “Can we play multiplayer after this?” and he nodded with a smile, looking away from the screen and at her. “Yeah, definitely. Who’d pass up this chance?”

With some irritation Myla realized how glitchy looking the game actually was, even if she’d been able to breeze through without noticing before. A bizarre, intense feeling swept over her as the two stood watching. It was like they were the only people left in this section of the convention.

Monk had picked a little guy in a long jacket, who was all tan and sand. It reminded Myla of the only bit of Star Wars she’d ever seen, the kid in the helmet ’n goggles in the race, but more like a fallout victim. Monk’s character’s weapon was a bunch of giant clocks that he pulled outta nowhere and smashed over enemies. Myla realized at once that it was bizarrely appropriate for this person that she’d only met today, as far as she could tell. And, fully aware that she’d brought it up properly for the first time, she said “Wow. That guy’s so totally EMC. I bet the clocks are for hypnotizing, right?".

“You think so?” he said. “Hoping to be hypnotized or something? Be careful, don’t stare at the clocks for too long.” She laughed back, but there was something weird in his voice. I guess he isn’t used to talking about this stuff aloud, she reminded herself.

“Hey, have you ever actually been to a hypnotist’s show?”

“No.”

“Me neither. Shouldn’t it be more rhythmic or some shit?” Myla laughed. “Do they even use pocket watches?”

“I dunno. It’s not like hypnosex happens in real life”, he said. There was something callous about his tone, like he was making fun of her. Of course. Monk was like an outsider, a bully, making fun of her. And underneath it all, Myla knew that there was something wrong about what was going on here. It all came together to make her angry.

“Well, who knows. There’s all kinds of shit out there, US army crap or something. And if there wasn’t actually something like this out there, why would we even think to write about it?” she said, so worked up, feeling ridiculous. She wasn’t seriously arguing this, was she? But such a weird feeling had come over her. Something intense.

“You don’t think it’s really possible, do you?” he asked flatly. It didn’t sound like a real question. While she fumbled for something to say back, he spoke again. She realized that the level was over, and that the character select screen was up again.

“How about this,” he said. “We’ll play this hypnotic game against each other. Whoever wins, gets to control the hypnotized loser.”

He was looking right at her, and her eyes widened. A weird atmosphere was hanging over her, and there was no doubt in her mind that he would be able to do it.

“And what will you do if you lose?” she asked, trying to smirk confidently.

“I’ll lay down and take it like a good boy,” he said, but echoing the confidence that she was trying to project. It made her so—angry!

“Okay, fine. Let’s play”, she said, an appropriate growl in her voice.

She picked up the second person controller and looked around for a character. She finally settled on the one she’d played as before—split-personality angel—at least she knew she could win with that. Yeah, she’d lost her composure for a minute, but now she willed herself to feel as ready to go as she had a few minutes ago. She thought she found it, and it channelled through her as a rushing, hollow anger.

Monk went straight back to the kid-star wars-desert-guy he’d picked before and then they were fighting each other. They were in a spooky dark world, all black and purple. It was such a lazy looking level—it was just black with purple clouds passing by. She was distracted for a minute by a sparkle she thought she saw, then heard the countdown—three, two, one, fight!.

—She was wrong to think that he was a worse player because he took it slow, she thought with a grimace. Everything was perfectly timed. Since always, Myla had the philosophy in games that offense was the best defence—Myla’s B for block button laid mostly unused, except when she wanted to do a throw. And that strategy usually worked fine. But Monk had somehow figured out how to make the blocking work. Myla’s onslaught did nothing. She grit her teeth. It wasn’t fair. But, Myla wasn’t gonna call for a time out. She had her pride (or stubborness), and she was convinced that she’d find a way through his defense by mashing buttons. She was so frustrated, by the time she was KOd she could have screamed and thrown the controller.

And the cocky bastard. It was only round two, she still had a chance to win, but he was teasing her the whole time. He kept mocking her—mock yawning, and she swore she heard him say under his breath—“tick, tick.” It was a threat to her, because she was starting to really wonder if there was something hypnotizing about this game. Maybe the glitches and stutters in the graphics weren’t really glitches. Maybe the little clouds and beeps were sort of rhythmic. And maybe they carried subconscious messages. Myla wouldn’t have noticed before, as intensely in the game as she was. Most of all, maybe Monk knew all along. What else could account for how good he was at this game?

She was down to 10 HP, but she still had enough time for a comeback—how many times had she done that in Soul Caliber? But as she tried to hack away at him, she made a fatal mistake, and a clock came crashing down on her. The KO timer ticked down, and she uselessly spammed out commands, feeling weirdly dizzy. 3...2...1...KO. And then Myla felt like she was the one who had had a clock smashed on her head, and she fell into her victor’s arms.

Game Over.