The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Stalking Angie

Part Four

Claude had a general procedure for after work.

He’d get home to his brother’s place, turn on the computer, throw dinner together, answer his email while the food warmed up, and then log in to the chat network.

Since meeting Angie, though, he’d gotten into the habit of turning on chat first to see if she was online.

Today was no different. He’d worked a full shift at the music store. As the first one in, he had opened the store and initialized the cash register, then started stock rotation. He’d eaten lunch, but it hadn’t been quite enough, and his stomach had growled for the last hour of his shift. Then, of course, he had to endure the half hour bus ride. By the time he got home, he thought he could feel his stomach start to digest the rest of his body. He needed food, and he needed it right away.

His brother wasn’t home, so Claude threw some leftovers in the microwave. He turned on the stereo, then sat down in front of the computer as the chat software loaded up.

private message from ayanna:

oh Claude thank god

private message from ayanna:

help

His hunger was forgotten in an instant.

private message to ayanna:

I’m here—what is it?

private message from ayanna:

I can’t find my clothes

private message from ayanna:

my parents are gonna be home in like 5 minutes and I’m naked

Holy merde, Claude thought.

Tristan:

What happened?

ayanna:

I’ll explain later—just help me please

All riiiiiight...

Tristan:

Spellbound angel

Tristan:

Now take a deep breath and relax, Angie

ayanna:

I’m so sorry Claude—it didn’t work

ayanna:

shit shit shit

He leaned in closer to the computer monitor.

Tristan:

Hang on, I’ll call you

ayanna:

I can’t find the phone

ayanna:

I don’t know where it is

Tristan:

Don’t panic, angie... just take a deep breath, and relax

Tristan:

We’ll get through this, I promise

Tristan:

You have to calm down for me to help you

Claude picked up the phone and dialed.

Tristan:

Can you hear it ringing?

ayanna:

YES I hear something

“Hello?” came her voice, shrill and breathless. She sounded like she was on the verge of panic.

“Angie, what happened?”

“Claude!” the terrified relief in her voice was evident. He wondered if she’d been crying. She spoke again before he could say anything else.

“Thank god—I was trancing with Dreamlord,” she said at breakneck speed, like she was in a race to get the words out. “I woke up and I must have taken all my clothes off—and I can’t find them—”

“Relax,” Claude said firmly. “Relaaaaaaax. It will be all right. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you. Can you put on a bathrobe or something?”

“No,” Angie said frantically. “I checked my closet—it’s empty—I don’t know what happened—I mean I know my clothes must be in there but I can’t see them or something—”

Then why didn’t you just get in bed, Claude thought, but he didn’t say that. “Okay, sit down.”

“Sitting,” Angie said, straining to get the word out.

“Spellbound angel,” Claude told her.

“Dammit, it didn’t work!” Angie screamed. “God I can’t breathe—”

How the heck do you deal with someone who’s having a panic attack on the phone? Claude wondered.

“All right, full induction then,” Claude said, and started. Ignoring her whimpers and pleas, he started talking—and kept talking.

“No matter how you feel, my voice relaxes you,” he said, crossing his fingers and hoping his audacity would pay off. “We’ve done this together so many times, it’s formed a habit, it happens and you can’t help it. It just happens automatically. Listen to my voice. My voice relaxes you, calms you, and makes you feel safe and secure. My voice automatically sends you into that deep comfortable place... that warm, soft, relaxed place that you and I go together... you can’t help yourself but listen to my words, and you feel more safe and comfortable and secure and relaxed the more you listen to me... your body and mind respond to my voice when I’m talking this way... you find your limbs relaxing, from your feet through your legs, from your torso through your arms and hands... your head and neck are relaxing, becoming easy and comfortable... going deeper and deeper as you listen to the sound of my voice... you feel your eyelids getting heavy as you relax more and more, heavier and heavier, droopier and droopier... closing so easily to the sound of my voice, welcoming my voice, welcoming this feeling. It’s so easy you don’t even have to think about it, just follow the path we’ve always trod together, it’s a habit, like second nature, easy and automatic, you have relaxed completely, totally, feeling all stress, all worries just slip away from you, not worried at all, not stressed at all, feeling confident and happy and comfortable, relaxed and heavy, deeper and deeper and deeper...”

Claude remembered to take a breath.

“Listen to me, Angie... my voice is a part of you, speaking directly to every part of your mind... and right now, I’m giving you a very important command, one that you will follow completely, without having to think about it. This happens automatically and instantly, and you can’t help it. This command cannot be overridden and cannot be countermanded. It overrides anything else you’ve been told, anything else you believe... are you ready for my command?”

“Yesss,” came her voice, calm and low.

“All posthypnotic suggestions are canceled on the count of three,” he said firmly. “You are the same person you were when you woke up this morning. You have no triggers; you see everything around you clearly; there are no hypnotic illusions. All posthypnotic suggestions are turned off. You will remember everything that’s ever happened to you when you were hypnotized. On the count of three, you will awaken fully, wide awake, completely out of hypnosis—and all suggestions are canceled, turned off, deleted, purged, erased, kaput. One, starting to stir, two, eyes opening, three, wide awake.”

“Oh god!” Angie blurted out. “Their car is in the driveway... my dad’s getting out... oh for heaven’s sake!”

“What?”

“My clothes are there in the corner, I don’t know why I didn’t see them earlier,” Angie said, and he heard her footfalls as she sprinted across the room. “I’m sorry, I can’t put them on one-handed—”

“That’s all right,” Claude said into the phone. I’ll have to get her a headset for Christmas, he thought.

“Claude, thank you,” Angie said earnestly. “I’ll call you later, I promise. Thanks. Love.”

Click.

His heart beating more calmly now, Claude put the receiver down.

He didn’t know what to do next.

That was the second time Angie had mentioned love to him.

His dinner was getting cold.

What the devil did Dreamlord think he was doing?

* * *

Claude spent the rest of the evening sitting at the computer, waiting for Ayanna to log in again. He kept the phone right next to him. After an hour or so, he turned on the television, but she didn’t log in, and the phone didn’t ring.

He got ready for bed around eleven. She probably can’t call, he reasoned. I’ll probably hear from her tomorrow.

The next day was nightmarish. He had to count the money in the register three times before arriving at the correct total. He did some restocking, but then realized he’d filed Nirvana under religious music. As far as he knew, Kurt Cobain wasn’t actually a Buddhist.

He logged in to the chat network again that evening, but there was no sign of Ayanna—and the hypnoplay chatroom had returned to its usual deadened state. Dreamlord said hello, but Claude ignored him.

The third day dawned with no email or phone messages from Angie. Claude managed to concentrate better at work, but rushed home afterwards... to empty chatrooms. He waited for a couple hours, then picked up the phone and called her.

Three beeps. “I’m sorry, but the number you called has been disconnected, or is no longer in service.”

Claude hung up the receiver and massaged his forehead. What the devil had happened? He was worried. Had she confessed to her parents? Had they sent her to reform school? What was going on?

He picked up the phone to dial information... and realized he didn’t know her last name. Marisol Angela... something. And he didn’t know her parents’ names.

He opened his email, then dashed off a quick note.

Dear Angie,

Is everything all right? I haven’t heard from you in a couple days... I’m starting to get worried!

Hope all is well.

your friend,
Claude

The fourth day dragged by, and still no word from Angie.

He tried again on the fifth day.

Dear Angie,

I hope everything is okay with you—I tried to call you, and your line is disconnected...? Please send me a reply soon—I’m worried about you!

your friend,
Claude

By the sixth day he started thinking of other options. Could he drive to Buffalo? It was several hours from Providence... but he didn’t know where in Buffalo she lived, dammit.

On the seventh day, he thought his prayers were answered, for there was her name in his inbox. He opened the email... and then wished he hadn’t. He stood up, paced around the room, went back to the computer, and read the email again. He then felt a strong urge to pick up his computer and throw it across the room. He wanted to pound on something, but he didn’t have a local gym membership.

His brother was always asking him to go outside and chop some wood for the winter. Without bothering with a sweater, Claude went to find the axe.

Dear Claude,

I’m sorry, but I can’t talk to you anymore. I won’t be using chatrooms any longer, and please don’t email me again. Nothing personal.

Angie

(To be continued)