The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My old suitcase is just barely clicking closed when there’s a knock on my door. Sighing, I look into the mirror to make sure that the tears really were mostly cleaned up by washing my face, and then start to walk towards the door. “I’m coming!”

Funny with how much sex my life has been filled with how little I actually have said that in any meaning besides the innocent one.

My apartment is more or less clean, but I still almost trip over three things on the way to the door. It’s mostly due to nervous fear, but Mystic’s advice was good. This is what I need to do. Doing anything else right now would be stupid. I need to decide what comes next, not put myself through any more hell.

With a very worried sigh I open up the door. She was nice on the phone, but I wouldn’t blame her if she slapped me. The last words I spoke to her before that call were to the effect that she was a horrible mother and that I never, ever wanted to see her again.

When I open up the door . . . there she is. People have always said that we look so much alike, and besides her hair I’ve never been able to disagree with them. Her hair is blonde, long and very wavy, but she has the same deep brown eyes, and skin that never does anything but burn to a crisp. Mine at least got a tan the more I turned silver, but I really don’t think I can compare that. The strongest super power my mom ever had was being able to deal with having a super powered lesbian daughter, and in the end, that didn’t even hold out.

Just as I’m about ready to apologize, run and hide, or do something, mom flies through the open doorway and wraps her arms tightly around me. It’s so strange to have a woman pull me to her without starting to get sensual, or going into my mind, or having been there, or . . .

I wrap my arms around her too and sniffle when she starts to. It’s been way too long since I’ve seen my mommy... my mom . . . It’s been way too long . . .

For a long time, neither of us say anything. She rocks me a little, back and forth, side to side . . . It’s not soothing in a way that’s going to make my eyes hood, though a dirty part of me can’t help but suggest that maybe my mommy is going to take home a much more obedient daughter than the one who left . . . The voice goes away though, and I just stay close as I can and inhale the familiar scent that makes me feel protected and safe.

Somewhere in the eternity of rocking I can feel her hand start to stroke my hair, and it hurts that it makes me think more of The Lady than times from my own childhood. My mother was always there for me, petting my hair and trying to help me feel better, but the memory of The Lady petting my hair during Yanta is stronger.

She sniffles, hard, and then finally breaks the vocal silence. “Sarah . . . I’m so sorry. When you called me, and told me what happened to you, hose horrible things . . . losing your silver sheen, I . . . It hurts to know you suffered through those things sweetie, but . . . I’m proud of you . . .”

My eyes go a lot wider than I want them to go, and I hate myself for it. She drove all the way out here—and it’s not just a hop skip and a jump to Midas from Coredellia—just when I told her about the very smallest things that happened with Syn, and turning back into just Sarah . . . She cares, even if we didn’t part under the best of terms, and that’s putting it nicely towards the both of us. I wasn’t exactly a very good daughter before I ran off and left my mom worried sick if her only daughter was okay or not.

“You know, I used to watch the news sometimes just hoping to hear something about a silver woman. When I finally got to see you, I barely recognized you, but I was so proud . . .” She sniffles again and starts to laugh before she pulls back just enough so she can look into my eyes and sigh. “But we have too much to talk about, and you wanted to come home for awhile so . . .”

“To the car, huh mom . . .?” I force a smile, though tears are still slowly sliding down from my eyes too. It feels like a lifetime since I saw her, and we used to be so close.

If only I didn’t have to run off to become some wannabe super heroine, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe I could have settled down with a cutie from Coredellia and made us both into a pair of happy wifeys. I never would have understood half of what my once powers did, but that knowledge really isn’t helping me now that they’ve been ripped from me and I’ll never get them back . . .

Mommy, mom, Susan, mother, whatever name I should be calling her, sniffles and smiles a little bit wider. “Uh-huh . . . You have a bladder the size of a sesame seed, went to the bathroom lately . . .?”

The flashback reminds me so much of those better days that I can’t help but sniffle harder to try and choke back the onslaught of new tears before laughing far too happily. I haven’t been asked that in ages . . . “It’s grown a little! Now it’s the size of a grape! And I don’t neeeeeed to goooo . . .”

We both share a grin, a grin that makes me think of those times you laugh just because if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. It feels nice to share a moment like this with her, even if I wish it could be better.

Even if I wish I could be better.

Mom smiles and pulls back and with a more genuine smile leans back against the door frame. “You go and just try, we’ve got time . . . Don’t want to have to pull over on the side of the road on the way, do ya?”

Before this always used to enrage me, but now . . . Now, I just sniffle again and happily laugh before trotting off to my bathroom. “True, would hate to raise all of those poor girls’ hopes . . .”

“Least you’re shameless and Sapphocentric as ever . . .” Mom laughs and sniffles a little bit more before waving her hands both at me in a playful “shoo” motion. “Now go on! We’ve got time, but that doesn’t mean you should try to take as much of it as you can! In the car we have the radio, which is better than the waterfall sounds I’ll start playing in a minute . . .”

Laughing a last little bit I skitter into the bathroom and sigh. Things might not be perfect, but maybe, just maybe . . . Losing my powers were the best thing that could have happened to me.

“Sarah . . .” Mom smiles and grabs my hand, squeezing it as we drive down the street. We have about two hours or three to kill before we get to Coredellia, so silence just won’t cut it. But we can’t have mom crying so hard we crash, and I can’t drive a car to save my life. “I want to apologize.”

I blink, and stare at her, sniffling just a little before trying to squeeze her hand back. “For what? I was the one who ran away like a spoiled brat who wanted to take the easiest way ahead of me. Drop my college plans and run off to Midas City, a place swarming with supers to make my break, to be ‘Silver Girl’ and get myself into all kinds of trouble . . . I’m the one who should apologize, and feel pretty damned stupid . . .”

We hit a pothole and mom winces, driving just a little slower. I can’t exactly afford to live in the nicest of neighborhoods . . . “Sarah, stupid as it was not to go to college so you could have a career to fall back on . . .You did what you wanted to do, and I’m proud of you. I am really, truly, genuinely proud of you.”

If I were driving, we would have just run the red light, but my mom can drive while emotional. “I became a puppet . . . I was doing things no one could call good . . . and I spent months just hooked up to a machine, being addicted to my own . . . to this strange mixture of things I can’t even properly describe . . .” Sighing I stare out the side window, and try not to get sick. “I spent so much time competing with others for my mind, and in the end, I’m still not sure that I won, or that I lucked out if I did . . . I’m glad to be here, please don’t think I’m not, but I made a really crappy heroine . . .”

“I’m sure no one working at that bank thought that . . . Or the women you saved over that year from The Infidels . . .” Susan smiles a little, warmly, and drives just a bit faster after the light turns green. “Sweetie, when you were seventeen your senior year of high school and dressed up in that ridiculous costume and called yourself Argentia, yeah, that was sort of sad, and you shouldn’t have done that, but when you decided to become Silver Girl . . . You were an adult, it was you making a decision, I should have tried to support you, not chase you away . . .”

Just hearing that name makes me wince. Argentia. The suit comprised of a mask from the local party shop, one that just covered around my eyes, leather boots, a spandex jumpsuit, and a cape from the same store. I looked like such a joke, and felt like one when I saw the pictures in the paper later.

Besides, I’d had silver hair . . . the mask was a joke.

It’s hard not to grin though . . . “Hey, I saved the girl. I even got some heroine sex out of it. You have to admit that was impressive . . .”

Mom laughs and rolls her eyes, taking a hard right just so my shoulder smacks into the inside of the car just enough to make me sore. “First off, you’re my daughter, so I didn’t really need to know that you got some ‘heroine sex’ out of it, though good for you. And second, it was impressive, and I was proud of you for that, even if I didn’t tell you. Encouraging you to distract an armed mugger with those sparks and then walking right up to him to take the gun . . . You got lucky!”

We share another laugh, and its hard not to feel even better than before. “I did get lucky . . . And the reason I walked right up to him, not that I ever told anyone, was that it was a plastic gun. I could tell because my sparks didn’t make it shine like it should have . . .”

Susan looks over at me, and I look back . . . and it’s another of those wide, wide, wide grinning moments.

“You little bitch.” We laugh again some more before she finally pulls a left, and we’re just a little ways away from the border of Midas. “Here I was, scared to death when I heard what you’d done, saw you on the local news . . . but that’s not important. You’re a capable adult, and you obviously know how to handle yourself and . . . I’m sorry I didn’t encourage you to pursue your dreams, but I’m glad that you did. I am so proud of you . . . Way more than if you’d just done what I suggested and became a lawyer.”

Smirking I playfully roll my eyes with just a bit of a sigh. “I couldn’ta done that. I can barely remember my own middle name sometimes, much less important court cases . . . I only remember any at all because of law and order! When I found out that blonde was a lesbian, that was when I knew my dykedar had been perfected so well that it could reach through screens.”

“Sarah . . .” Mom laughs some more and turns up the radio. “Get your mind out of the gutter before you pull me down with you! I need to keep us out of the gutter, not plowed into a building!”

“Sure thing mom . . . sure thing. Hey, do you have my ‘Say You Will’ CD? I could never find it after I moved and I was always so scared to call you . . .”

It makes her so happy to be able to nod, I can tell from the sparkle in her eyes . . .

This might have been the best thing in the world for the both of us.

The ride back “home” consists of sing along, bad jokes that are just far too punny, and more reminiscing. It makes me really wish that I’d gotten a hold of my mom better, but in a way . . . She wouldn’t have wanted to be a member of Chronos, maybe it was for the best.

Who knows if The Lady would have wanted her recruited or not . . .

Coredellia itself isn’t a very big town, but it’s gotten bigger since I was here last. Before, there were maybe two, or three thousand people in the whole of the city, but it’s definitely picked up a notch. The cross walks are all motion sensor button operated, and there are stoplights in places I would have never dreamed of there being stoplights before . . .

There are even stores that I’ve seen in Midas!

The residential areas though, once we finally reach them, look almost exactly the same as they used to. “Wow . . . Bridge Street looks exactly like it used to . . . The Jennesons even have the same decorations still up, a few new ones, but . . . Oh, and there’s that tree I used to . . .”

I blush, and mom smirks before laughing just a little. “Where you used to sneak to with that first girlfriend of yours . . . You two were so cute before her family moved away. You ever tried getting a hold of her? I’m sure we could try if you wanted to. Might be a good idea to try a new angle at life, you know. If you accomplished your old dream and it holds no more allure for you, you can always try settling down with some pretty young thing . . .”

“Maybe . . .” I’ll admit, the idea holds more allure than I want it to. I’m supposed to be a heroine, not some love starved every-girl, but . . .

“Sarah . . . Relax. It’s okay. Just live a little if you want to, or don’t if you don’t . . . But don’t constrain yourself to any one path. You’re not the kind of woman who should be trapped into decisions she doesn’t want to make . . .” Mom’s worried smile lights up my world, and I lean back into the seat as we pull up into the most familiar driveway in all of existence.

234 “C” street glitters in silvery numbers on the blue paint of the house I grew up in. The white trim really draws out the silver letters, and the small flowerbed in front of the porch still has that ancient seeming rhododendron.

Susan stops the car, and pulls out the key. The engine stops with a sound that can only be described as a healthy thud. It reminds me of being a little girl getting home from a big shopping trip, ready to help mom unload the trunk, wishing that I could fly it all in like the women I looked up to even before my first sparklet . . .

Mom pets my hair just a little in that familiar way and I sigh. “Remember when we got those numbers for the house? You were seven, and so excited. I remember how you cried and hugged me so tight when I told you I got those so you’d always have your favorite color leading you home . . .”

Tears form in my eyes, and I remember just how that felt. It had felt so good to know that, to feel that . . . Nothing had ever made the father I still don’t know come home, but something was always there to help me home. I always used to think that my father just went out one day and couldn’t find his way home. Mom never really liked talking about him, so I still don’t know why, where, who . . . but she knew I was scared I’d get lost away from home too.

Silver that shined, leading me home . . . like I lead Dust and Pink back to The Lady? Who knows, that might be a stretch . . .

“I remember that, mom. I remember that so very, very vividly. Maybe . . .” I sigh, closing my eyes to try and stop from sobbing. “Maybe, just maybe, we can finally actually talk about dad . . .? You always avoid the topic, I just . . . this would be a good time to talk about it wouldn’t it? I’m back home, we’re reconciling . . . I just want to know.”

Susan’s eyes tear up, and she closes her eyes in the same way. We really do look so much alike, except for the hair, and small unperceivable little differences. Her hand not on my hair grasps her door handle, but she still responds. “Maybe . . . Maybe tomorrow. For now, I want my baby to get some good food in her, and to just let her mother help her feel better. That’s not a very happy subject, and it won’t be for either of us, I don’t want to make this trip worse than you were afraid it would be.”

It’s a sensible thing for her to say, and reasonable, and lots of other good words, but it doesn’t make me feel hopeful that she’ll finally tell me. Fine, it’s more business of hers than mine I guess. The bastard probably left mom after knocking her up, he doesn’t deserve for me to give a damn . . .

That doesn’t mean that I don’t, but that I wish I didn’t.

“All right mom . . . So, mac and cheese from a box, and Sabbath in the stereo?” I grin, and mom sniffles just a little as her tears start to dry.

“Oh please . . . Mac and cheese with hot dog circles, and some Metallica. More protein, less British.” We share another laugh, and though this one feels awkward . . . I think we’re both left feeling very, very happy. This is going to be good for us . . . Even if I can’t even be Argentia ever again, this really will be for the best, I hope . . .