The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Midas City is a forward thinking city. Years ago, before I was even on the streets, it became standard practice for warehouses declared ‘abandoned’ to be regularly searched and a full directory made available to the heroically inclined public. No one thought this would get rid of villains having places to hide away – just that it would make that a little harder. For a few months at least none of them caught on.

Miss Mesmera was caught setting up broadcast equipment by a causal search. With a little caped assistance, the MCPD had her behind bars before lunch.

The only reason I bring this up is because otherwise standing outside of a bowling alley would feel really weird.

“So, this is the place, huh?” Counter Spell hops off of Aureus and leans on her staff behind me. Her long blonde hair flutters in the gentle wind with her blue wizard robes lined with golden runes that shine in the city lights. For being magically enchanted robes they show plenty of her skin, but considering I’m wearing heels, a pair of shorts, and whats pretty much a bustier made more ‘heroic’ by the finishing detail of a cape . . . I can’t really talk.

It’s a cold night, but it’s the middle of Autumn. If it were sunny that would be a little strange.

I nod, and tug my fingerless gloves tighter. One of the benefit of metal hands is that gloves don’t feel quite as uncomfortable when they’re pulled too tight against the skin between your fingers. “Sure is. Over a year, and this is the first real lead I’ve been able to stumble on. My source heard that The Syndicate is in town, and that they’ve started human trafficking under this place. Of course the bigger news was that their big ticket item . . . is my mom.”

“Just who was this source, anyway? You’ve been a bit . . . vague . . . about sources lately.” Counter Spell has every right to be suspicious. I think its been awhile since I’ve gotten any tip offs from anyone above the level. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with how you like to disappear for a day or two sometimes, would it?”

Considering that she at least has some form of morals, twisted or not, I’ve learned just how helpful it can be to have Dust on my side. The rave music is kinda catchy, too. “Look, you’ve graduated from the LaSilvas School of Redeemed Heroics. You get to be unsupervised. That means I get to have some time alone, too. Sometimes I’m exploring leads. Sometimes . . . I’m just trying to have a good time. That doesn’t hurt anyone, does it? It’s not like I swore I wouldn’t rest until I found her, just that I wouldn’t stop looking.”

Counter groans and smacks her staff down against the sidewalk. “You know I don’t mind if you take some time off! Mina and I have been trying to get you to take a vacation for the better part of a year. She’s going back to California for Christmas. I’m going to go with her. Come with us.”

“Maybe.” I wave away her words and clench my metal fingers into a tight electrum fist. My alloy is a little more on the silver side these days, but that gold luster is still there if you know how to look. “For now we’ve gotta get inside of there and break up whatever’s going on. If Sarah is inside . . . We can’t wait! Think you can get the door open for us?”

Our heels click along the pathway to the front door. Of course it’s locked. They could have filled the floor with innocent bystanders and ‘event security’ but they decided to go the silent route. I guess it makes more sense, given this city.

You never know what ‘innocent bystander’ is really a hero.

Opening doors is magic so simple that I bet I could even figure it out if I wanted. For now I’m happy doing things the easy way. Counter Spell can handle the more complicated stuff. She twirls her staff, muttering quietly under her breath before pressing the staff against the sliding glass doors. They let out a quiet ‘ding’ before sliding casually open. Moving on well cared for metal tracks the doors should be all but silent. In the dark of night when I’m holding my breath to keep the sound from being intrusive it sounds louder than my bike did on the way here.

Our eyes meet. If they have anyone with super senses listening they already know we’re here. If they have cameras set up they already know we’re here. Magical wardings or high-tech-to-the-point-of-magic security systems were tripped a long time ago.

Unless The Syndicate stopped giving a damn they know we’re here.

I nod, and she nods back. Quickly scanning the room I find a door marked “Do not enter” with dark red letters against blue painted wood. I jerk my thumb towards it, and Counter Spell nods.

We both have ways of floating across a floor, but making any effort to be stealthy now just sounds silly.

Counter Spell holds out her staff in one hand and quietly chants under her breath. After a quick sweeping motion with her empty hand a bolt of light flies out from her staff, across the room, and right into the lock of the door. The light visibly turns inside of the knob, and then the door slides open. “You sure there was no back door?”

“There was, but do you remember the last time we let ourselves into the back door?” Our heels click their way across the sprawling main floor of the bowling alley. Each step makes me feel a little more tense. By the time we get half way to the door I have to remind myself to breathe.

“Yeeeah. I’m glad that you took that punch instead of me, Silver Girl, but getting a metal girl slammed into me didn’t really feel great. Letting you go first only helps when you don’t then get used as a weapon against me.” Counter Spell’s whispers feel too loud, but she’s the one responding to me. I can’t really get upset about that. Besides, no one seems to be rushing towards us. That’s a very good, or a very bad sign.

Maintenance rooms are boring places. Once you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all. Nothing is out of place, but there is a door labeled “Basement”.

This time I don’t even look to Counter Spell. Being careful on the way in is one thing. Now that we’re this deep inside, we can’t wait for magic. I rip the knob clean off and kick off the ground to fly down the stairs as quickly as possible.

Before I can react I’m greeted by the usual party favors for crashing a black market: high caliber gunfire. Everything is a blur as I close the gap between me and the well dressed women with guns. The first, a curvaceous brunette, stares at me with terrified green eyes as I rip away her gun. Her eyes melt half closed when my lips mash into hers, forcing my current between her thoughts.

Green eyes flash silver, and her lips quiver. Gloved hands stop pushing away at my shoulders, and instead rest limply at her sides. Her knees shudder. Finally her hips arch almost forcefully against me.

I let her go, and turn to the other woman who hasn’t stopped firing. Just as I’m about to repeat the process a trail of glittering sand flows down from the open door. A few rounds shoot into the floor as the sand streaks infront of the second woman. Even past her dark sunglasses I can see her eyes flutter shut and her body slump as she lets out a low moan. Her gun falls harmlessly to the ground, and soon so does she.

“Good work!” I throw a quick thumbs-up to Counter Spell before turning to survey the rest of the room. There are other guards, similarly well dressed women holding guns that I’m pretty sure aren’t legal to carry around most cities in peacetime. None of them act. Most of them are staring incredulously at their firearms.

The main portion of the room is taken up by what look like high class folding chairs filled with important looking people. There’s no one I recognize, but most of them aren’t looking at me. At the other side of the room, on a makeshift stage, a woman in a dark green dress is motioning to a slouched woman wearing the tattered remains of what look like a super heroine’s costume. I don’t recognize her, but she isnt wearing a mask. You’d be surprised how much of a difference that can make.

Counter makes her way down the stairs but I don’t wait for her to reach the floor. Just in case any of those well armed women get the idea that maybe my peach-skinned partner is a little more lead intolerant than I am I melt the metal away from my hand and send our a quick barrage of sparks.

It’s hard to control so many going in so many directions, and then keep them sustained long enough to make each of those women in turn cry out and slump to their knees with vacant eyes and shuddering thighs, but I manage it.

Anyone who wasn’t looking to the stairs before is after the moans subside. “What can I say? I know how to make an entrance! Now, let the girl go free, and everyone on their hands and knees. No one has to get hurt.” Not wanting to lower my guard, I keep my hand out with spread fingers as I move towards the back row of chairs. Each fingertip sparkles more than enough for the woman in the green dress to notice. “Bad Syndicate, you know Midas City is my city, and you know that I don’t like you guys as it is. Oh, right, introductions! I’m Silver Girl.”

“Yes, yes you are.” Her laugh is more impressive than her dress, but it sounds weird to start calling the woman on stage “the woman with the memorable laugh.” Still, her laugh echoes through the small room impressively nonetheless. “But I’m not really here.”

Like a desert oasis turning into a cactus on a thirsty cartoon character, the women on stage, the audience, the chairs, all ripple away in waves of heat. The guards and their guns are still there, and still very apparently real, but it doesn’t seem like anything else was. Illusions. I hate illusions.

Behind me, Counter Spell snorts. “Ugh. I should have detected that. I’m not sure if it was magic or not, but it was definitely strong. There’s another door over there, look!”

Sure enough, behind one of the collapsed women is another door. “Be careful, Counter. If I were you, I’d get a few of those wards of yours going before they start taking shots at you.”

“Way ahead of ya, sparkbutt. Threw up a shield as soon as I heard gunfire!” Telling Counter Spell to be prepared is like telling a firefighter to bring water. She always has the solution for any problem. If any spell could find Sarah she would have pulled it off a long time ago.

Hastily running across the room with just a bit of flight I tear open the door, just for a glob of something dark to fling over my face. Its cold, wet, and I recognize the smell instantly. That doesn’t give me much time to react to the fist that catches me right in the stomach and sends me flying back into the wall.

I turn my hands back to metal, making it much easier to push myself away from the wall before uncovering my face. “Rocky Road. I thought you were still in jail!”

As soon as the ice cream is off of my face I can see the dessert themed villain standing just behind the doorway. Her costume is nothing special. The same dark brown leotard covered with white bumps that vaguely resemble marshmallows, thigh high boots, and gloves that match her leotard with a rock hard white bump over every knuckle. Her brown hair is the same color as the goop she flings. So are her eyes.

She snaps her neck as Counter Spell moves to my side, helping me regain my balance.

“I was, I was! But then I got a big deal! See, you’re making too many people too uncomfortable! It’s startin’ to seem like you aren’t going to be a flash in the pan. So, I took early parole when The Syndicate offered it!” Rocky Road punches at the air, vaguely aiming at my face, and another large puddle of half melted ice cream sails through the air right my way.

Wasting good ice cream is distasteful, but I crouch to the ground and roll out of the way just as Counter holds up her hand, chanting something that sends a wave of heat out around her, melting the chocolatey projectile before it can land.

Not waiting for her to aim again, I kick off the ground again with my hand held out infront of me. The metal melts away again, and my sparks fly through another glob of ice cream. Her cold wet mess may harden around my hand painfully, but my silver is already racing through her. I grit my teeth to fight off the impossibly cold feeling moving down my arm, and she falls to her knees with a groan.

From behind me I hear Counter Spell moan. The moment I take to look back towards her breaks my concentration on the spark, and I can feel it burst inside of Rocky Road.

Everything happens too fast. A woman dressed in the same style as Rocky Road, with every part of her costume a yellow-white, her hair matching perfectly, has her arms around Counter Spell. White frost is spreading out from the woman’s arms, and the strong scent of another flavor of dessert fills the room.

“Vanilla! But you—”

Another large mass of ice cream slams into my face and past my lips. The taste is too sweet, and I have to fight to spit it out instead of swallow. I’ve already felt what happens. Just getting it in my mouth has me feeling a little numb in more than just my hand. I try to back away from the doorway, just to bump into someone else.

I look up and see a woman with pink hair looming over me, dressed in the same style as the other two, but pink. “She’s French Vanilla, Silver Girl. You’d think you of all people would be able to remember that. You’re the reason we were all shipped off to different prisons.”

A trap. This had to be a trap, and I charged right into it like a moron. Dust wouldn’t want to lose her rave buddy. The Syndicate is bad for business. They had to feed her bad information. That’s the only way this makes sense.

It’s hard to move when half of your body doesn’t feel like it’s really there. I put weight on my ankles to spin and push Strawberry away before she can shove a wedge of her namesake fruit against my face. Unfortunately I also manage to fall over in the process. If I wasn’t able to fly I wouldn’t be able to roll up into the air and out of the way of another thick mass of chocolate and marshmallow.

Still spitting and rubbing away the last bits of the last blow that hit, I move up against the ceiling for a better view. Strawberry. French Vanilla. Rocky Road. I never asked how they got their powers, or how they found each other, but its hard not to wonder why this Nerfarious Neapolitan is what it is.

Strawberry flicks her wrist, and a flurry of fruit flies towards me like darts. I roll out of the way again, but a little too slow. One of them slides along my face as it passes, leaving a sticky red trail in its wake. The smell is nearly overpoweringly fruity, and now I feel even more numb and cold. Not even my metal can stop this feeling. Bullets? No problem. Food themed weaponry? Defenseless.

Reminds me of something Mina said about Mistletoe, but I feel a bit too rummy to remember what.

Counter Spell is almost wholly encased in a vanilla frost, and her eyes are already that same shade of off-white. I have to help her, but . . . if they have Sarah, they’d get her out of her as quickly as possible . . .

The red trail on my face tingles, making my eyes twitch and an edge of my vision go pink. Damn it! No time to think. I charge blindly at Rocky Road, mouth tightly closed to avoid the next chocolatey mess winding up in my mouth. I manage to catch the worst of it in my hands, chilling them further, but another two fruit darts dlide along my legs as I fly past Strawberry.

Thankfully my legs were already numb, and now Rocky Road is pinned under me on the floor. Her ice cold hands grab at my face, for just a moment giving me the most wicked ice cream headache I’ve ever felt. When so much of your body is already numb and you feel half drunk on fruity and chocolatey sedatives, an ice cream headache is even worse.

As dumb as kissing a woman with ice cream powers sounds its my only good option. Her lips are a lot colder than her hands, and the more current I pulse through her the warmer her body feels against mine. Dark gloved hands clutch my head tighter but don’t feel nearly as cold. Her nipples press into my chest. That definitely makes me feel warmer. It also has the benefit of making it easier to feel my thighs, too.

By now before Jesse Colloten started helping me, so much flying and sparking around would have had me feeling a little bit cold. Now, that’s just because of the ice cream queen shuddering under me.

The only thing louder than the smack of our lips separating is the moan we share after. “Sorry, Rocky . . . I’m not big on complicated flavors!”

She moans in response, shuddering as her thighs twitch. A casual glance into her eyes shows just how little her mind can work after what she’s felt. My head is still throbbing, and it feels like there’s a taste of chocolate and strawberry whenever I move, but that doesn’t make it too hard to float up to my feet. I can feel my legs a little better, too.

“Mmm then ma héroïne, eet doez no’ get much more zeemple than French V—!” Stopped from saying her own name, the second of the three ice cream crooks looks as frozen in place as it looked like she had Counter Spell. Theres a sound of shattered glass, and something inside of her eyes looks like it snaps. Her gaze becomes confused as she slumps forward, mouth hanging open dumbly as though frozen in a question she doesn’t remember how to ask.

From behind her, my magical sidekick laughs. “And it doesn’t get more simple than an illusion spell! Like I’d go down stairs if I didn’t have to! Enjoy being feeble minded, Vanilla Bean.”

That word really sums how she looks up to a ‘t’. Feeble minded. She even laughs in the ditziest way ever when Counter Spell says Vanilla Bean. A white gloved hand even raises up to tease at the corner of her lips as she keeps giggling, looking at me almost expectantly.

If I was the kind of girl who got off on curvaceous blondes with a thick french accents giggling like bubble headed bimbos I’d definitely be needing a new pair of shorts. Not that it isn’t hot the way that her giggles make her breasts jiggle under her leotard, or the way that she looks like she’d be happy to do anything I said if I asked her to do it really nicely, or . . . okay, if I keep watching or even listening to her the new shorts thing has a chance of applying if I don’t distract myself. Quickly.

“Wheres Ninja-Berry? Ugh... stupid pinkish vision . . .” I catch my hand halfway between my side and my face. Rubbing away the trail left behind by the strawberry dart would just rub it into my hand too. I’m still dizzy as it is. I don’t need to make things any worse. “I’m hoping you took care of her too, Counter?”

“Mm-hm. Thankfully neither of them were paying very close attention to me, what with it seeming like I was trapped under that weird frost stuff Frenchie here conjures up.” Counter pushes the back of French Vanilla’s head forward, and she wobbles in place with a loud giggle. I force myself to look away, and to the rest of the room. This is a weird basement, and it looks newly expanded. The paint on the walls doesn’t look wet, but it is amazingly vibrant. New. “Huh. This is weird. A basement hallway. Not something you see often around here.”

Counter steps past Vanilla, and over Rocky. As soon as she’s beside me, the door we entered through slams shut. I rush for it, desperately grasping and twisting at the knob. It doesn’t even budge. It doesn’t even feel like it was designed to budge, more like its a knob shaped protrusion coming out of the door.

I rush across the room, floating over the still mewling Rocky before trying at the other knob. The same. No dice. “Fuck! It won’t even budge! It’s like—”

“Illusion.” Counter Spell smirks, tossing her staff playfully back and forth between her hands. “Fooled me the first time, but this didn’t have as much time to set up. It’s not quite perfect. They had to set this up faster, and it shows. Look at the doorknob again.”

“Counter, if it’s an illusion, it’s making it so I can’t—”

She slams the end of her staff down against the ground, making Vanilla let out a frightened shriek. “Just look! Come on, who here knows more about illusions? If they didn’t feel real, they wouldn’t be very good illusions. Look already!”

Shrugging I look down to the knob. Sure enough, if I look closer all of the places that should let the knob move look poorly fused together. Something about it seems fake, like a really bad knock off toy not getting the placement of colors right on an action figure, making its eyes end up somewhere closer to its hairline. For some reason, noticing this makes it easier to open the door.

Stuff like this will never make any sense to me.

A blinding light pours in as soon as the door is open. If my eyes weren’t already metal they would be now. Yet even with my eyes protected as much as they can be, all I see is white light. This doesn’t happen very often. Usually I can make out shapes . . . or something.

Someone is screaming, but I can’t hear it over the sound of that light. It’s almost like its more than just brightness, but somehow solid light. I don’t feel trapped in it, but I can definitely hear it streaming out from the door. Is this an illusion too? I stare into it as well as I can, trying to find some part of it that doesn’t pass inspection. It’s not so much white as its so bright that it couldn’t still have a color and be this bright. None of it looks wrong. If I hold my hand out towards it, the reflects and shines off of it the way it should.

Still, there had to be some one or some thing creating the illusory scene we just left, and the doorknobs. None of the dessert dames have that kind of power. No one I’m really aware of The Syndicate keeping around does this sort of thing, but I haven’t had to keep tabs on them as closely here in Midas.

Monique would have contacted me if her agency had any clue about this. She’s been good at giving us a heads up about new threats from established crooks coming from out of town. . .

“Aurora! Help! Please!” Sarah! I don’t even give myself time to think. I throw myself into that light as hard as I can. It resists me at first, but as I fight against it, push through it, the edges of it start to sparkle silver. Mom’s silver. They had mom! The Syndicate got their hands on her, or they always had her, and I found her! I can finally save my mother!

Something wraps around my ankles and pulls up fast enough to slam my face down against the floor. Thankfully, the floor dents instead of me. A quick kick frees me from whatever grabbed ahold of me. I look back to see, but I’m too deep into this light, whatever it is. It’s hard to see back towards where I came from, or where I’m going. I can’t let myself get turned around! Sarah needs me!

She calls out my name again and I fly for her voice as quickly as I can.

It feels like tearing through a steel wall when I finally push myself beyond the light. As soon as I do the world around me becomes powerfully dark. When I look behind me I can’t even see the light anymore, but in front of me, is mom.

Dressed in her uniform, that perfect white resting over her silver skin, she looks just like I remember her. Her silver eyes are full of tears. She’s bound in a chair a lot like Doctor Lys had me trapped in, arms over her head, probably being used as some kind of battery to try keeping me away from her. I fly up over her and put my fist through the tube like restraints holding her hands.

I might not have super strength as far as meta human levels go, but being made of metal makes your fists do a lot more damage. Tearing away the restraints holding her legs is just as easy. As soon as I can I wrap my arms around her and squeeze myself as close to my mom as I can. “Mommy . . .! Sarah, I . . . I missed you so much! I did everything I could, I never gave up . . . I knew you would pull through, even before I heard your voice in my head! I just knew . . . Sarah . . .”

Her arms wrap around me, holding me so tight. I can’t see past the tears, and I can’t stop shaking against her. Mommy. I’ve finally found her. Almost everyone gave up, but not me!

“Shhh . . . Relax dear. Everything is going to be all right now. You found me. And now we can be together. My good little girl never gave up, and now it’s finally okay for you to give in . . .” It’s Sarah’s voice, but it doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard her say. She’s never called me her good little girl, and even when she sounded soothing she never sounded like this. She never made me feel heavy, tired, weak . . . runny . . .

“Mmm . . . mommy . . .? What’s . . .”

“Shhh . . .” Her finger presses to my metal lips, and the metal feels like it drips away as they fade back to flesh. My tears stop, but not because I feel soothed or like it feels like I’m done crying. It just feels like they’re fading away, just like my metal, because Sarah wanted them gone.

Her finger starts to glow. When I try to look down to see it better my eyes cross, and silver floods over my vision. Its harder and harder to keep my eyes open, harder and harder to . . . to . . .

“Look into mommy’s light, little silver girl. You’ve been working so hard for so long. It’s time for you to give up. Give in. Look into the light, and let it overcome you. Let it overwhelm you. Give in for mommy. Give in for me . . .” Her voice is somewhere between a dreamy mewl and a soft distant coo. I want to shake my head, I want to scream that it cant be her, that I need to go and find her, that they’ve done something to her, but she’s Sarah so they couldn’t have. This just can’t be her, but I can’t move. I can’t struggle.

“Yesss mommy . . .”

Everything inside of my head feels stuck in that light. It’s the same light as before. It isn’t silver. It isn’t white. Its just too bright to have any color. It’s too bright to think through. It’s too bright to move through. To struggle through. It’s too bright to do anything but accept and surrender to.

At least I know if it’s mommy in control then everything will be okay. Mommy wouldn’t let anything go wrong, especially after I fought so hard to set her free. Now Sarah can use her light to make everything feel better.

Her finger strokes along my lips, and it feels so good. Sarah’s finger. Sarah’s skin. Sarah’s light. Everything feels so much more right now that she’s back. The world is fixed. Everything is the way it should be. Now I can just let go.

“Good little girl . . . Now . . . mommy wants to play a fun little game with her good little girl . . .”