The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

When Tracey heard a knocking at the door, she expected it to be Hector. But when she went and opened that door, she found instead that there were three women there, all looking at her with a stare of fixed dedication.

Before she could question them, two of them grabbed hold of her by the arms, and pulled her forward. The other stepped past her.

She was being walked up the steps from her basement apartment, now, that other one still in her apartment somewhere.

When Tracey reached the top of the steps, she looked back, and saw the third woman pulling the door shut. That woman put Tracey’s keys in the lock, and locked it.

Tracey kept her keys in a specific place when she wasn’t using them. The sight of that woman doing as she was filled Tracey with disquiet. But it also made things start adding together in Tracey’s head. These three women were strangers, and she’d never seen them before. She’d never known them at all, never spoken to them. There was no way they could know her key-storage information. And there was no way they could have accidentally stumbled across where her keys were kept.

But there was someone who did know where Tracey’s keys were kept, and that someone was Hector. She’d never gone out of her way to show him where her keys were kept. On some occasions, though, when he’d come over to spend time with her, he’d taken a look around, rifling through all her things and searching. He’d gotten into every hidden nook her apartment held.

At the time, that had only served to make her feel more possessed. She’d felt as if he was laying claim to everything around her. And it had reminded her— that he was the one who was going to be paying for her housing from then on.

So it had been like he was surveying his collection of belongings, though that collection had been hers to start with and had only transferred in ownership from her to him afterward.

If Hector knew where her keys were kept, and now these oddly determined woman knew where her keys were kept, and the third one of them was just finishing up locking her door now and carrying the keys back up the stairs with herself, slipping them into the pocket of her skirt… that pointed towards some very grim potentials.

Tracey was now being walked around the side of the house. The third woman was still trailing up the stairs behind her.

And Tracey’s mind was working fast. She knew Hector— she knew his poisonous past, and she knew the poison he’d been giving her, personally, more and more. So some conclusions were becoming apparent to her in this moment.

Hector must have chosen these three women essentially at random. Crushed their minds, and claimed them, the way he’d once had such a talent for. He’d told them to come collect her, for whatever reason. He’d told them where they would find the keys to her apartment, and to lock the door after her, since she wouldn’t be in a position to do it.

Even that felt very proprietary to Tracey. He wanted the door locked, because it was really his apartment, full of his things, and he didn’t want to be robbed of his possessions. It was nothing to do with her, her safety, or the sentimental value she’d invested in all she’d accumulated.

The more she thought about this awful conclusion, the more it frightened her. Hector had been good for a while. And even though he’d been starting to treat her worse, personally, that poison hadn’t gotten beyond her. But he’d been a destroyer of considerable power in his day, and so now it was awful to contend with the idea that he was not going to keep his poison restricted to her, anymore. Awful to contend with the idea that he would now let it flow to anyone, for any reason, just because it suited his purposes.

He could do a lot of damage to a lot of people this way, if he was truly back to using strangers every way he wanted for as long as he wanted.

Tracey wondered if the association knew he was doing this. Then she wondered if they even knew what he was doing to her.

Now they were walking along the street, the two women on either side of her shifted their body-language. They each moved an arm to link through hers, and they started laughing in a boisterous and cheerful manner, throwing their heads back in that laughter now and again.

It made Tracey feel even more hopeless. She didn’t look like a kidnapping victim now. She probably just looked like someone who was zoning out a little as her friends were laughing on either side of her.

There was a reason Hector had been able to carry on with his hospice haunting for so long before he’d been caught. He was clever. He knew how to hide what he was doing. If it hadn’t been for those healthcare professionals recognizing him last time, he never would have been caught, or tracked down by the association. And he’d made that mistake when he’d been younger. She was very concerned that he’d learned from that mistake. Concerned he wouldn’t be making any other mistakes like it all this time later.

And in understanding that Hector wanted this to be happening to her right now, her mind was going through something strange. It was slipping into trance for him, even though he wasn’t present.

So much of her didn’t want to go with these women, didn’t want to submit to what they would do to her. Yet at the same time, so much of her also understood this was what Hector wanted from her. And she found that side of her response very hard to argue with. Because in that side of her response, she understood this was what Hector wanted, and so she wanted to go along with it completely. She just didn’t know what she could do to fight back against that.

They walked on for a while, the third woman still trailing behind them. Sometimes, one of the women, on one side of Tracey or the other, would call back to her, making it clear she was meant to be included in this too.

And when they got to busier streets, other people began ing them. And they ed without hesitation, without even any second glances.

Tracey cursed herself each time one of these people did . She should be trying to signal somehow that she needed help. But she was sure, too, that Hector had been thorough in programming these women. They had that look of fixed determination. How far might they be willing to go to hold onto their target?

And now, though she still wanted to reach out for help, she was equally afraid they might be willing to injure, harm, or even kill anyone who tried to stop them in their task.

The few people she walked past after that, she only looked at helplessly. She didn’t want to risk their safety in exchange for her own, especially if they wouldn’t even necessarily be able to get her free.

It was a horrible situation, though. Hector had been good for a while. She was the one who had brought him to this point. She was the one really responsible for the state the three women around her were in. The best they could hope for now was Hector removing all memory of what they’d done when the day’s end came. Even if he did that, though, it still wouldn’t change the fact that they’d been violated this egregiously.

And what if he didn’t release them at the end of the day? That would be even worse, and all her fault too.

There was an emotional frenzy in her that was on the verge of becoming tears. She wished she could cry them. But in her trance, her body wouldn’t even let her do that. It seemed to understand that would contradict Hector’s wishes, put cracks in the otherwise perfect image he’d cultivated here, in presenting his three temporary (at least she hoped they would only be temporary) destroyed-goods beside her.

She wasn’t going to be that different from them, in the end. She was going to have to be a destroyed-good of Hector’s, too. She’d be exactly the same as they were now. There’d be nothing different about her at all.

They walked further. The two women stayed with her, but Tracey looked back over her shoulder to regard the third one. She was going into a boutique.

Tracey wondered if the woman had any money with her.

The other two kept walking her. Some moments later, the third woman caught back up to them. Seeing her filled Tracey with disquiet again. The woman didn’t have a bag with her, which implied that she had not been served by any shop attendant inside that boutique.

But she drew something out from under her shirt, which turned Tracey’s stomach in discomfort, too. These women were determined. This woman had willingly broken the law, just because Hector had told her, not caring what punishment or danger she was risking— just feeling compelled to do it. Hector’s power really was a frightful thing. And she, personally, was already so much under its sway she didn’t think there was anything she could do anymore to ward it off.

What the woman had pulled out from under her top was a pink dress, which had no sleeves and only thin straps. It was such a bold, bright shade of pink, that for a moment, Tracey didn’t know what to do with it as she looked at it.

And her first view of it was turning out to be a little jostled, because now that the third woman had caught up to them, the women linked onto Tracey pulled sideways to drag her off down an alley between nearby buildings. They dragged her far down the alley, until she was out of sight of the main street.

But even in the dimness of being back here, she could still see the pink of that shade. It was such a bright shade. Why had Hector told them to get that dress, if he was trying to make her the woman he believed she’d been? Why had he made them get that dress?

In the time he’d seen her, she’d dressed either according to what Marvella had told her, or according to how the picture of living-death was dressed. And neither of those styles resembled the dress the third woman was holding up now.

Seeing the dress galled her, though. Tracey had her own taste in fashion. She had something of a skillful eye for it. And even so, she’d barely been able to showcase that. Since her mission with Hector had started, Marvella had dressed her, stopped Tracey dressing as she wanted to. And then the role Tracey had been playing had dressed her, in demanding the costumes it had demanded. And now, if Hector got his way, he would take his turn dressing her— and dress her in this.

When would she ever be able to dress the way she liked? When would she ever be able to choose clothing that reflected the fact that she had good taste? When would she ever be able to let her talent for fashion show?

Thinking this way only crushed her feelings more. If she really did end up being fully destroyed by Hector, she would end up fully dying to him in of personality. Probably her sense of fashion would die too, and he would never know what her taste in it had been like before. If that happened, that would be her fault. She was the one who’d asked Marvella to destroy her, and she was the one who’d gone along with Marvella’s mission when Marvella had told her she was going to use Hector to do that to her.

But why had Hector chosen this dress, this color?

As the two women on either side of her began to undress her, an idea occurred to Tracey that disturbed her as much as what she’d seen so far had. Maybe Hector imagined that before the seemingly-real Fredrick, she had not been so damaged, so dark. Maybe he assumed before that seemingly-real Fredrick, she’d been whole and complete, and undamaged. And maybe he imagined that, in such a state, she’d been cheerful, pure, and breezingly feminine. The kind of woman who would lightheartedly wear things like this. The kind of woman who would lightheartedly wear dress-styles like this.

But that sat wrong in Tracey’s body. Even before Hector, even before Marvella, even before the first man who’d predated Marvella, Tracey had not been that kind of woman. She had never been lightheartedly feminine in this way, never been pure and sweet and innocent. Even before she’d been damaged, there’d been a lot of darkness in her.

And even with her eye for fashion, she’d tended more toward bold statement pieces, cutting-edge things, challenging and confronting images. Nothing like this simple and sweet presentation of femininity.

What did it mean now, if Hector was going to try and make her something she’d never been? What did it mean now if Hector had decided unilaterally she once must have been the kind of woman who would fit in this dress, and subsequently decided that, as part of refashioning her, he was going to make her be the kind of woman who would also fit in this dress?

She thought she should fight it. But the trance was so powerful over her. She found she just couldn’t.

They got her undressed completely from her head to her hips, leaving only her underwear just a little beyond that. Now the third woman stepped closer to her, still holding that bold pink dress, which wouldn’t suit her as she was now, and would never have suited any earlier version of her, either.

Hector was never going to learn that. And she was just going to be stuck having to wear this. What was old in her would die, and Hector would never know it had ever been there. Nobody else would either, except maybe Marvella. But she would it only with satisfaction at having destroyed it. No one would grieve it. Tracey thought maybe she should take some time to grieve it herself, but everything was happening so quickly, she couldn’t carve time for that out within this experience.

The third woman was the one who was holding the dress up above Tracey’s head. But Tracey felt that Hector was the one who was truly dressing her.

As the third woman pulled the dress down over Tracey’s head, to start drawing it along her body, it was really Hector doing it. Hector was dressing her in the trappings of hyperfemininity, even bimboishly so. And as Tracey stood there, she observed herself do nothing about it.

She was in trance, but even so, she was acting unnecessarily vacant, unnecessarily empty-headed, unnecessarily dreamy. Acting in just the way she’d always told herself bitterly men would want.

…acting like Hector was somehow watching her right now, and wishing to see that vacantness on her face. Wishing to see her complete lack of response.

How could she even make herself want to fight back, though? This was what Hector wanted. He was making her the costume, in body. Not just in clothing, but in flesh. He’d decided that this was who she’d been before Fredrick, and so now he was going to make that the truth, and then tell himself he’d restored her to some past state of glory or coherence— and that would please him.

Even on the inside, she was too invested in Hector’s emotions to care that he’d made a mistaken assumption, to care that he was erasing over her to replace that with something that had never truly been there.

This was what Hector wanted. She needed to let him make her the costume.

As the third woman dragged the dress further along her body, Tracey found herself going more and more into a dazed doze. If Hector could see her now… she was sure he’d be very happy to see the expression that was on her face.

The third woman kept pulling the dress further down along her body. It fit snugly against her, but she was sure it would present her flatteringly.

She was only standing there, letting the dress be dragged onto her. She was submitting to Hector’s domination, through other hands. Women’s hands.

She would be the costume, even in flesh.

She wasn’t displaying emotion about any of this. She was only standing there, letting them dress her, as if she had become the picture of living-death after all. The woman who ively sat there unaware, simply letting people dress and pose her like a doll.

That was what Tracey was doing now. She wondered if Hector had even thought of that particular aspect of this.

When the third woman had gotten the dress to hang flat, she lowered her hands.

But one of the two women who’d walked with their arms linked through Tracey’s had had a purse over her other arm. And now the third woman rifled in it. Tracey thought now that she must have had something in her hand when she’d got out of the store which she’d thrown directly into that purse.

And now she came back out of it with makeup.

Tracey didn’t know what difference it could make now, but that was enough to make her balk.

“No,” she said. “Don’t put that on me. Just the dress is enough. Leave the dress to be enough.”

She expected them to fight her and hold her down, force it onto her face. But they didn’t do that. She ed how dangerous the women had seemed as they’d been ing ersby. ed how the third woman had willingly broken the law at Hector’s encouragement. She’d feared being the target of such determination— feared the women might injure or harm her, as they might have done to outside interferers. So she was surprised to find they weren’t planning on doing any of that to her.

She wondered what exact commands Hector had given them.

“We’ll do what we have to do next, then,” the first woman said, on Tracey’s other side. “We’ll take you over to him.”

Hector felt the way he’d felt the time he’d followed Tracey around Designed-Oblivion and then lost track of her within it. Hector felt the way he’d felt the time Tracey had been in this very apartment with him, and then had gone into the other room to speak with Fredrick over the phone. Felt the way he’d felt after, when he’d followed her in there and found she’d already disappeared.

She wasn’t here. That felt unsettling to him. He kept looking over his shoulder, as if the situation would suddenly rectify itself.

But the longer it went on, the more disturbed he felt. Things were wrong, misaligned somehow. Incorrect. The longer they went on being wrong, the more Hector worried. His path was diverging from the path of the ideal to such an extent that the two might never converge again. It was wrong that Tracey was not here.

Then maybe she was; there was a knocking on the door. Hector practically threw himself up to his feet, off of his couch, to run over and open up for that knocking.

He saw almost what he’d expected to see. Tracey was there, surrounded by the three women. And she was wearing that slimming pink dress, in that bold shade.

Hector’s eyes narrowed when they fell on Tracey’s face, though. She was lacking the pink makeup he’d told the women to take for her.

That surprised him a bit. He’d thought his control over the three women had been fairly total. But he didn’t need to address that with them.

“Well,” he said to them, and not to Tracey. “How did she take it?”

Tracey flinched at being spoken over, at being ignored. At least, that was how Hector interpreted her flinch.

“Took it well,” the three women answered together in unison. “Seemed like she understood you were giving it to her through us. And seemed to lose herself more and more as she reflected on that. She just let us put the dress on so easily.”

Hector’s eyes flicked back to Tracey, who now wore an even more disturbed expression. Seeing the three women act together in such conformity had clearly gotten to her.

“Well,” he said again to the three of them. “Think of tulips,” he intoned.

That dispensed with his need for them. And the three women had clearly ed what he’d said. One of them ed a handful of makeup products into one of his hand first, then Tracey’s set of keys into the other. Then she caught up to the other two who were already walking away.

“Come in, Tracey,” he said to her. Then set both the makeup and keys he’d had in hand down on the entry-table near his door.

Tracey walked past him, and when Hector turned from closing the door behind her, he found she’d already turned to be facing him.

“I think I know what happened,” Hector said. “I told them that if you gave them any instructions, they’d have to follow them. I told them that if you wanted to start a conflict, they had to be peaceable with you. I told them they shouldn’t go against you in such a case. I think you were ready to fight them, not on wearing the dress, but on wearing the makeup. And that’s why you’re not wearing it right now.”

“I’m wearing the dress,” Tracey stressed. “Why isn’t that enough for you?”

“I told them that,” Hector spoke on, “because I wanted to find out how much I’d turned you against yourself by this point. I wanted to see how willing you’d be to go along with me. Very willing, apparently, but not entirely. You could have stopped them from putting the dress on you, too. And you don’t have the clothes you wearing before anymore now, do you? You let them throw those clothes away— didn’t stop that either.”

“But I can resist now,” Tracey protested.

“At the last moment,” Hector scoffed.

“I can! I can resist now.” She sounded like she was half trying to convince herself, now. “Listen to me, Hector. I just want to hold onto this last little piece of myself. Won’t you even let me have that?”

But Hector was not moved to mercy. He looked over her, and saw the thing he didn’t want.

“The image isn’t complete, Tracey,” he reproached her. “Complete it for me. Take the makeup off the entry-table. Go into my bedroom, and put it on for me, working in the mirror there.”

He was exercising his power over her, and that felt good. It had felt good to exercise his power over the three women, but only because it had led him back to his obsession for Tracey. It felt better to exercise his power over Tracey, because he knew the impact that was having on her was going to last longer.

That was why he’d set those women to forget, and go back out into the world. He’d had no desire to keep them, had only wanted to use them as tools briefly.

But he wanted to keep Tracey. And he’d learned from his earlier mistakes. He had not destroyed those women in view of anybody else, so it wasn’t going to get back to the association. The association didn’t even know that he’d found Tracey again. They thought he was in his grief, and they were leaving him to that. They thought that he was bitter they believed he still couldn’t be trusted to help out on association missions. They thought he still needed time away. And they were leaving him to that.

It worked out conveniently for him. They weren’t having anyone follow him or keep track of his movements. That meant he could get away with all this, unbothered.

But he was bothered just now, actually. The longer he looked at Tracey, and saw what he wanted was not there, the more upset he was.

“Or if you want,” he said to her. “I could put it on for you.”

He stepped forward, to reach out and take hold of her face. He’d pull her by it right back to the table. Then he’d opened the blush palette, to start.

But when he raised his hand, Tracey batted it away. She’d resisted him again!

He dropped his hand, and regarded her with a calculating look.

“Think of how I suffer, Tracey,” he said. “The woman you were before is still dead. All I’m trying to do is bring her back as she was before she was destroyed. Not even destroyed by death, but destroyed the first time, by Fredrick. You’re not letting me have that image. You’re denying me even this small comfort. Doesn’t my grief mean anything to you? Doesn’t the fact that you feel for me mean anything to you? Seeing you deny me this hurts.”

Tracey understood that Hector was only playing on her sympathy.

“Tracey,” he cajoled. “Just put the makeup on for me.”

Now that he’d only asked, Tracey saw something she wanted. Him in his suffering, and something she could do to soothe it.

In trance she was very susceptible to this. And as soon as that understanding coalesced in her mind, she felt seized hold of by his power. Like the other three women must have felt.

Alright, she thought, and didn’t say aloud for him. I’ll destroy the last piece of myself.

She touched her own costume lingeringly, her fingers dusting along the arcing neckline of her dress, as she walked to do it in a dream. A real dream. Not a performed dream.

She gathered the makeup on the table up into her hands, and dreamwalked past Hector into his bedroom.

It won’t hurt very much to die, she thought. Not for him.

Hector watched her go, and called to her through the wall when she was in on the other side of it. “Just let me know when you’re ready for me to come in.”

But that feeling from before was back. He logically knew she was in the bedroom, but that was the same bedroom she’d once disappeared through the window of.

He looked over at his aquarium-tank, and for a moment felt they had just been sitting in front of it. That she had just been receiving its bathing light, and she was now about to run away from him.

That sense of things being wrong, things being off only crept up in him higher and higher. She wasn’t here, wasn’t in his line of view. That was wrong, everything was wrong, everything thing was off.

He didn’t need to worry about it anymore, though. Because then, in a soft dreaming voice which might have been original-Tracey’s, she spoke to him through the wall. “You can come in now,” she said.

He opened the bedroom-door and left it open, stepped in and looked at her.

The other room had been dim. He’d let it become dim while he’d waited for her to be brought to him by his temporary tools.

It was still dim now, which meant even now the aquarium must be casting its glow behind him.

She’d been bathed by that light, and in the apartment he kept for her, she’d looked into that other light. She’d looked into that light, but now she was looking into him. She’d looked into the light, but now the light looked into her, and she into him.

The image was perfect. That same bold shade of pink on her lips— a slightly lighter shade of it dusted onto her eyelids, and something with a sparkling sheen dusted, dabbed in around her cheeks.

The image was perfect, it was as he wanted. She had become an ideal Tracey, in both cloth and flesh. In cloth and flesh, manner and behavior all. Keeping the best of the disintegrating Tracey— that dreaminess— but re-instating the best of the Tracey she must have been before. That sweetness, that simplicity.

Tracey had become the costume. She understood that. But she was still emotional inside at seeing that look on Hector’s face. That look that said he had been soothed. That look that said he was approving. That look that said he was in awe of her. He still wasn’t looking at her, and seeing her as she’d really been. He’d never done that.

But she felt so much emotion, at having the love at all. She was so glad to have his love at all she didn’t care what its conditions had been. She didn’t care what she’d given in exchange.

As Hector watched her, he felt sure. Now he could get past how it burned to touch her.

He set hands on her shoulders and walked her back to his bed. He eased her down onto it, and set himself atop her. Straddlingly over her, and kissing.

But kissing her brought further entrancing visions. She was still the same thing she’d always been. The entrancing, captivating thing— the entrancing, captivating creature, who’d called to all his worst impulses and encouraged them back out of him.

And now he’d perfected her, made her perfect. Made her just how she would have been before Fredrick had found her. Made her just how she would have been, if Hector could have been the one to find her first.

Tracey could tell Hector’s mind was wandering now. She let him kiss at her distractedly, but waited for him, not trying overly hard to be responsive. She would wait for him to focus more. He was the one who needed to lead this.

As Hector kissed her, he felt himself getting more drawn in by that experience. He’d never done this with Tracey in her disintegrating form. But now he could do this with ideal-Tracey.

He undid his pants and let himself out, not wanting to spare the time it would have taken to undress completely. She was just being— ive, and pliant beneath him. He could tell her to be more spontaneous if he wanted to. But the thought of just completely dominating her, even dominating her physically in this way, was too alluring at the moment. He couldn’t make himself wish for something else in its place.

He slid into her, only just having moved her underwear aside so as not to have to delay things. He slid into her, and felt he’d been waiting such a long time to do it.

She stayed just as attentive and ive for him. Lying there on her back and just taking it.

He spread desperate kisses along her jawline, along her cheek, at the beginning of her neck— behind her ear.

He’d claimed her fully now. And she was ideal.

He never could have done this to her otherwise.