The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Summer Doby ground her teeth as a sickening melody drowned out the funeral dirge. She diffused some of her rage in counting bimbos as neat little lines of cheerleaders in little black dresses, two-inch pumps, and black stockings marched down the aisle. In unison, they took their seats, held hands, and bowed their heads in prayer, then got up in the same neat lines and knelt at the casket.

My sister’s casket, she thought viciously. Dawn’s casket. Which I shouldn’t have had to see before college. My simple, beautiful sister. My best friend. And all she wanted was to be pretty and popular like the cheerleaders.

“Beautiful rabid bitches,” she muttered.

Her mother smacked her in the knee. “We said this before. It was an accident. They couldn’t have known about her allergy, and certainly not how extreme it was! They couldn’t have known that just kissing someone who had peanut butter for lunch was enough to send her into shock!” she said, breaking down into sobs again and scrabbling for tissues in her bag.

Summer’s mouth twisted, and behind her thick glasses, her eyes narrowed at the approach of the cheer squad. Two of them carried a framed uniform with Dawn’s name stitched on the right breast. Ahead of all of them, of course, was Connie Shields, with her bright blonde hair and bright plastic smile. “You holding out okay, kid?” she chirped at Summer.

“Gosh. Just think—I can join you for a Reese’s now,” Summer fired back, right down the middle and over the cheerleaders’ heads.

“Well, we can totally hang out if you really wanna join us!” another girl piped up behind Connie. “We’d totally let you on for Dawn!”

The motherly tone in the last part seemed to strike a chord with Summer’s mom, but it made Summer see red. “My legs don’t spread—oh, excuse me, bend—that way,” she snapped, her rage about to boil over.

“We’ll always be here for you if you need a friend,” Connie said. With a snap of her fingers, the cheerleaders turned and went back to their seats.

“Summer Olga Doby! Behave yourself! They’re more heartbroken than you are at this! I know that Seven Minutes in Heaven is an old mean girl prank—I’m sure they were doing it back when Aunt Ann was your age—but they couldn’t possibly have wanted this. You have to see the light in their hearts,” her mother said, outraged.

“Hah! Any light left reflects off bare walls of their heads!” a scratchy voice croaked from behind them. A century of life had reduced Summer’s aunt—or, more precisely, her great-great-aunt—to a pile of bones barely able to steer a motorized wheelchair around, but had not dulled her sharp tongue and sharper mind. She was full of disdain for everything—except for Summer, who she flew to her mansion in Alaska every July for a visit. Summer appreciated the gesture, but between the endless days and the endless coffee, she could never clearly remember anything more than bright light and cold. It was a chore, a thoughtless and eventless chore that she had to complete every year.

Then again, her aunt had been the first to call after they’d told everyone about Dawn, and that had been from the airport, demanding that Summer drive her to the house.

“Ann, please, this is no time for your Rasputin tales,” Summer’s mom admonished.

“An-YA! I am Anya Grigoryevna Dobrieva! Come, Olga. I am tired. We pray for your sister, then you drive me home,” Anya said to Summer. Summer didn’t understand why her aunt called her by her middle name all the time, but at least Anya called her something other than a disappointment.

She followed as Anya piloted her power chair in the direction of the casket, looking back as her mother sobbed into her father’s chest, allowing him to end the charade of being the pillar of strength, and had to hold back tears herself. Anya reached back and took her hand—not out of reassurance, but to get her attention.

“That is my bed Dawn sleeps in. It is greatest cruelty to see a girl so young die. Those girls—dolls, da? Made to torment by repulsion those they do not fuck. Tell me truly, my Olga. Together we dig to bottom of truth,” Anya said.

Summer sighed. One little conspiracy theory, and now Aunt Anya goes all KGB on me. Then again, Anya called anyone she hated more than she hated everyone a doll, and she seemed to have the same wild suspicions Summer did. She took a deep breath, feeling it stick in her throat; there was no way she was going to be able to speak properly, either from rage or from grief.

But Anya looked her in the eye, blue eyes shining from her wrinkled face like a beacon, and the words flowed. “They’re bullies—all the cheerleaders, all the jocks, all the ‘cool kids’. You’re one of them, or you’re their prey to hunt down at will, with no retribution allowed, because it’s the natural order of things and kids will be kids. The allergy prank? That’s mild ‘stop trying to be us, you’re not worth our time’ stuff. They’re just too dumb to not realize that nut allergies can make you die instead of just break out in embarrassing hives,” she said, and her words sounded brittle in her ears.

“Manslaughter, murder—dead either way. And this is common?”

“Very. My friend Shannon was another victim. She was last cut, but they said they’d let her hang out with them as the alternate. Of course, they all but drown themselves in perfume to the point that Shan could barely breathe before she got out of there. She could tell when she wasn’t wanted. Dawnie couldn’t. I saw that trash can piled high with candy wrappers. They only called 911 after she didn’t come out for fifteen minutes. Cops got rid of it first thing, but it was clear they were chasing off the ones they didn’t think were good enough.”

“Repulsing those not worthy. Maybe their souls, they cried warning one last time,” Anya summarized. “Oh, my Olechka, you do not understand. Is terrible thing that happened, da. I meant to be in ground by this, but time dictates otherwise. Take off glasses. You need to see truth.”

“I’m blind without—” Summer started, but Anya pinned her down with a stone-faced glare. The brutal chill of Siberia burned in Anya’s blue eyes, and Summer’s world blew away, mind freezing in that sub-Arctic regard. Her body went numb, but something in her subconscious mind cracked like an iceberg calving. Anya asked her questions, and she answered them, but the answers went out of her head as soon as she was done.

Then her memories exploded.

“Hush, Olechka! Do not scream. Whole life in such short time is much to handle,” Anya said quickly. “Close your eyes and be calm now.”

Summer closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing as Anya continued. “I block your thoughts when you were six to save little Dawn. You were breaking her, making her idiot. You were too young to control power, so you brought Dawn to your level. Could not fix what was broken, but no more damage. Now, remember, daughter of my heart.”

Summer remembered: six-week-long days in Alaska, bonding with her great-aunt, learning Russian until she was natively fluent, playing with complex nesting dolls, taking deference from servants as if she were a little czarina, building snowmen at two in the morning and sleeping at two in the afternoon because time meant nothing. She had bonded with Anya over those summers, closer to her than even her mother, and then had those memories stored in a vault for later use. But this time the vault door didn’t slam closed and leave her with only vague impressions. The summers led into each other, one after another, and her grip of Anya’s hand tightened with love.

It stopped cold for a different reason, when a voice broke into her recollection. English sounded strange after subjective months of remembering Russian. “I didn’t know you spoke Russian! Awesome! So is this the snow queen you spend summer vacation with?”

Summer’s hands shook for her glasses, and she got them back on in time to greet her best friend. “Hey, Shan. Yeah, this is my aunt Anya, the only person I’m bigger friends with than you. She moved to Alaska the way most people move to Florida—everything’s warmer than Siberia. Aunt Anya, this is Shannon Collins, the best friend a girl could ask for.”

Anya looked up, her thick glasses also back in place, and swept her imperious gaze along the length of Shannon’s body as if sizing her up as a suitable friend for her niece and heiress. Whether it was the long, spindly legs, the toned figure, the curling red hair, the dark brown eyes, or the gentle concern on her face as she came over to wrap long arms around Summer in a tight hug, she found something she liked.

“Man, and she came here to be at your side? At her age? Wow. Your aunt is cool, and not just cuz she’s from Siberia,” Shannon said with a warm smile. “It’s really nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Friend of my Olechka is good person to be knowing,” Anya said, and she and Shannon settled into small talk. Summer let them, struck by a strange feeling that she couldn’t quite define. I want her, she realized, looking at Shannon in a new way. I don’t want to fuck her. But I have to have her. I can’t lose her. Not the way I lost Dawn.

“Summer.”

And Shannon was by her side again, round face beaming with kindness, voice soft and comforting. “Earth to Planet Summer, this is rescue ship Shannon, do you hear me? You know I’m here for you.”

Summer didn’t even need the touch of Anya’s bony fingers on her wrist to tell her what she needed to do. She flicked her glasses off and gave Shannon a hug. As she came closer, she made sure her gaze met Shannon’s, and she said, “All I need is for you to be my best friend forever.”

Shannon squinted, lost in confusion for a moment—then lost to the spell of Summer’s ice blue eyes. Brown ebbed away, replaced by black that widened until almost nothing was left of the brown. “Whoa, wha?” she murmured as she felt everything fade out around her.

“I’ll never hurt you, I promise you that. But this is what the cheerleaders are, except worse. This is what you wanted to be, and now I need to show them what I am. I need you to trust me, Shannon, like you’ve never trusted me before, and I’ll protect you,” Summer said, the words coming out in a rush, unrehearsed and unprepared.

Shannon blinked and let out a long breath, then pulled Summer back into the hug and gave her a kiss on the cheek for good measure. “I trust you,” she said, and her voice sounded normal enough that most people would have been fooled—but most people weren’t Summer, and most people hadn’t known Shannon long enough to know when she was a little out of it.

Heat rose in Summer’s cheeks and between her legs. She understood better what she was now. More, she had just hacked her first mind, and no one but she and Anya knew.

Anya regarded her through the thick glasses and said, “We are too long being in this place of death. I am tired. You both come with me and we go home.”

This place of death. Summer looked back one last time at her sister’s coffin, shuddered, and followed Anya and Shannon out of the funeral home.

At the rented van with the wheelchair lift, Summer opened the door and prepared to get into the driver’s seat, but Anya stopped her with a raised eyebrow. “Olga...” she said reprovingly.

Oh. Right. “Shannon, you’re driving us home, if you don’t mind,” Summer said, keeping the pleasantries that would be expected by the outside, but putting force and chill behind her words.

Shannon went blank and immediately helped Anya onto the lift, got her into the van, then held the passenger door open for Summer before getting in on the driver’s side.

“Very good, Olga. You need to shape her if she is to be your servant. You don’t have to be cruel, but it has to be enough that when you’re apart, she still knows her place,” Anya said in Russian, and the language was starting to sound sweet to Summer’s ear. This is who I really am. This is who I was supposed to be.

“Hey, Shan. Let’s hit the mall. And be careful—Anya drives the chair better than you drive your car,” Summer said. Anya groaned, but realized that Summer had a reason.

“You deepened an existing bond, one that may have been influenced already by your eyes. Not all will be this simple. But use her as a guide, a confidant, and yes, a friend. There are few of those in our world, and you’ll need someone to talk to when I’m gone,” Anya said with a nod.

“I know, but...”

“Do not fret about your skill. Things will come to you naturally. Mistakes will happen, but no one will escape you if you are truly a Dobrieva. I awoke you when I saw the truth of what killed your sister. You will need an army against them. One inexperienced girl and one ancient hag will not be enough, and you would not have me for long in any case. My mind is still vibrant and my gaze deadly, but I live trapped in a rotting corpse that has but months left to breathe. So I must tell you now: those dolls, the dancers? You call them cheerers here, yes? They are worse than controlled. They are hive.”

“What?” Summer said, shocked.

“How is for you to determine, but it hardly matters. If they were simple slaves, I would stay by your side and take their souls back one by one, letting you awaken slowly as you reaped their benefits, then taken their token leader as justice for Dawn and displayed her as my final doll to the Society before my time at last ran out. But these are hive. There is no person left to take in those shells. You will have to find their leader, the one who thinks for them but is not one of them,” Anya explained.

“So they’re collectively controlled. That explains why they do everything together,” Summer mused.

A muffled noise like a laugh being hidden made Summer turn her head. “The orgies on the football field are true? Cool!” Shannon said.

Anya chucked. “You switched to English in your shock, Olechka. It jarred a memory loose. It’s good that she has information. You should extract it when you have time,” she said as they pulled into the mall.

“Right. So. They’re all drones? Like ants?” Summer asked, still shocked but remembering to switch back to Russian.

“Drones like ants, yes, but more than that, they are a hive mind—such mind as is left to them. It is done with machines, and tools, and drugs, and even bodily manipulation, all the toys of man to create something that could never truly exist. They are not like us, and our gifts from God,” Anya said glumly as she waited for Shannon to take her out of the van.

“So all of this is for me to serve revenge because you can’t? No! I might be able to hack brains, but I’m not born a monster!” Summer said, gasping.

“No, Summer! She wants you to end those bitches so they don’t hurt anyone else. Will you make me do it? I hear they sell semis at the sporting goods shop. It would be my pleasure,” Shannon said with a cruel smile, before freezing under the power of a double death glare.

“But listen to your friend! You cannot create such hatred, not in one induction. I awakened you to right this wrong. Raise an army, and take my empire as its rightful heir. You have always been my heir, Olga, but I hoped you would come to your power with the help of my wealth and my staff. Instead, you must make your own mark before that. Do you understand?” Anya said, glasses back in place but voice persuasive.

“More than you know. But I have to do it my way. I have shopping to do with Shannon. I hear they have borscht at the Polish stand, if you ask nicely,” Summer said, recognizing what she had to do.

Anya instead followed Summer and Shannon to one of the department stores and waited while they went through the racks. She smiled when Summer and Shannon went into one of the changing rooms, and smiled more broadly when they came back out. Shannon moved with the unnatural grace of someone who had been put back under control, wearing black skater shorts, green-and-black striped socks, and a black t-shirt with “Blind To Reality” in neon green font.

“Dye job next weekend, right?” Shannon said with a smile and a look of total devotion.

“Only if you really feel it’s necessary...” Summer said. “Did you check the tag on those shorts? Maybe we should have gone back to the clearance rack...”

Summer’s budgetary musing was interrupted when Anya put a jet black credit card in her hand. “Yours, Olechka. I’ll take the necessary steps.”

“I—uh. It’s. Uh. Limit?” Summer choked out.

“Credit card limits are not for people like us,” Anya said. “Though you would have to buy a medium-sized country in installments.”

After a few moments of staring, Shannon reached over and put Summer’s jaw back in place.

They paid for the clothes and headed back to Summer’s home, where Shannon split off and went home. Summer went upstairs and closed the door to her room, putting on some music and trying to think about everything that had happened.

Sometime later, she heard a light knock on the door and her dad’s voice. “So I saw Shannon leaving when we got back. Is your name Olga now, dear?”

“Dad, I have my glasses on, and if I wanted to celebrate that way, Shannon would still be here. Oh, come in,” Summer said, her tone that uniquely teenage mix of exasperation and genuine love.

He did so, jacket and tie off, but still in the black pants and white dress shirt from Dawn’s funeral. To Summer’s surprise, he closed the door behind him and turned the music up. “You know that Anya is your great-great-aunt from my side of the family, of course.”

“I figured Mom would get her name right if she was on that side of the family tree,” Summer snarked.

“You weren’t the only one in the family with the gift between her and you, just the only one she thought was worthy of following her. So I have a pretty good idea of what you did to Shannon. It was my idea to have Anya block your memories once I realized what was happening to Dawn. But what did she say? What do you know? And what do you intend to do?” he asked with the scowl, but not the eyes, of Anya’s most mind-erasing stare.

“Anya told me everything—especially why I’d return home from Alaska with a six-week gap in my memory that made me write the worst ‘what I did on my summer vacation’ papers ever. I know what sex is, and I know what love is, and I know there’s a difference. Yes, fixing Shannon with a stare made me tingle inside, but not to the point that I want her to snack on my panties to show me her loyalty, or move in and become my new sister. Any other concerns?”

“Again, what’s your name?” her dad pressed.

“Summer. I’d like to know why I got that, and then got Olga as my middle name. Or is it? Did Anya create a second me in my mind to help hide my secret?” Summer asked.

“From the moment we saw the sonogram and knew you were a girl, your name was supposed to be Olga. Your mom got to name the first girl, and she picked out Dawn. I was supposed to get the next one. But... do you know how you find out you have eyes that powerful? I know a little of it, but only a little. I can glare someone down in strong moments, but I don’t have any lasting impact.“

“You mean like leaving your sister retarded because you’re two years younger and keep knocking her down to your level so you can have a playmate?” Summer bit back.

“That’s an unusual side effect. Lasting brain damage, I mean. Dawn was beautiful, but she was a month and a half premature. She was never really healthy—that’s why she had so many allergies and why we were always taking her to the doctor. It wasn’t just you. Don’t let the guilt eat you alive. But you’re avoiding the question. Do you know what happens to people like you who can just own anything you look at hard enough?”

“You end up a wild animal. Anya warned me. Dad, I don’t blame you, so relax. Also, I have no intention of turning you into doting grandmas who feed me nothing but ice cream and candy. I don’t even like ice cream all that much.”

“You have it when you’re born. There are stories of people like you being stolen from the nursery because one of the nurses is so enthralled, so attached, that she can’t give the child up. You got your name because your mom looked into your eyes when you were born, and she could only think of the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Fortunately for you, she’s a beach girl. I was going to explain it, but I had to wake your mom, and take other precautions, and by the time I got around to the birth certificate, she’d already stuck Summer in front of the Olga.”

“So if you hadn’t known about Anya, I’d have fried your brains by my first birthday, and I’d basically be raised by Mommybot and Daddybot? Charming,” Summer said with a sigh.

“The idea was that you’d inherit Anya’s wealth and your power when she passed away, that the grief would be enough to jar the memories loose. I guess she thought the locks were breaking and decided to make the best of it before you went into a blinding rage,” her dad said.

“She’s expecting me to go into a blinding rage. You’re wrong about the reason. If she could still walk, she would have made those cheerleaders jump off the nearest bridge like a line of lemmings in a video game. She wants me to take revenge for Dawn. Shannon—yeah, she’s under my spell, but she was happy to go under if it meant killing those bitches for Dawn’s murder. And it was murder, or at least depraved indifference. It was a prank, and maybe they didn’t think her nut allergy could kill her—but they didn’t care that it did. They’re evil, made not born. I know I’m entering a different world, and I’m terrified. It feels good, but I know once I go any deeper, there’s no going back.

“I was afraid of that. I know they killed Dawn. Murder might be too strong a word, but she died by their malicious intent. Take your anger out on them, but when you do, don’t do it halfway. Make sure that they never do anything like this again. Don’t just turn Connie punk and file your nails like it’s enough. Also... your mother shouldn’t know. Do what you can to make sure she doesn’t know, or at least doesn’t remember.”

“I understand. Just know this. My eyes don’t change the girl that you raised. I still want to change the world for the better. I still want to go to Franklin in the fall and use that scholarship I earned.” Summer turned to her computer, trying to end the conversation.

“Maybe. Maybe you’ll be doing something bigger. But this is my contribution to your effort. Make sure you study this. This is your new normal, and brain dead is your new black. Don’t believe me? Ask Anya when you drive her back to the airport,” her dad said, tossing her a green flash drive engraved MCD 2015. “I added some files based on my research here. And remember. I love you, Summer.“

As her dad closed the door behind him, Summer said, “I love you too.”