The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

04/08/2025 — Cedric

I sat wedged between two Echelon security guys in the front of their truck, feeling like a damn sardine. Salvador Rodriguez was driving: stocky Hispanic guy with a buzz cut and a face that looked like it had seen some shit. Quiet type, but his eyes never stopped moving, scanning everything. The other one, Miles Reeves, was a lanky Black dude with a scar running through his right eyebrow who hadn’t shut up since we left Echelon. Both of them had pistols holstered at their sides. I didn’t have a gun, which made me feel naked as a jaybird.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Miles said, turning slightly toward me. “You follow our lead, period. We ain’t babysitters, and Dr. Quinn already thinks this whole side mission is a waste of time.”

“Barrett couldn’t even reach his campus security friend,” Salvador added, his voice surprisingly soft for such a solid guy. “Phone networks are getting spotty. But he thought you deserved a shot at finding your girl.”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Appreciate it. I won’t get in your way.”

“Good,” Miles said, adjusting his holster. “Because our priority is supplies, food and clothes. If, and that’s a big if, we have time after that’s secured, we’ll swing by the campus and see about your daughter.”

“Any idea what we’re heading into?” I asked, staring out the windshield as we approached the town limits. My hands felt clammy. Olivia was out there somewhere, claimed by some stranger. Every minute that passed was another minute she was…I couldn’t even finish the thought.

Salvador shook his head. “Not really. Barrett’s been monitoring radio chatter, but it’s minimal. Power’s still on in most places, but who knows for how long.”

“Might be a goddamn war zone,” Miles muttered. “Or a ghost town. Either way, keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

As we rolled into Chantwell, it was clear which scenario we were dealing with. The streets were mostly deserted, a far cry from the bustling little town I’d known for years. We passed a group of three men walking together, all carrying rifles. No women with them. A block later, we saw another man leading two women by the hand, both of them following him with that same devotion I’d seen in Wendy’s eyes when she looked at me. When the guy saw us, he yanked his women into an alley, disappearing from view.

“Jesus,” Salvador whispered.

Every store we passed had broken windows, doors hanging open. The 7-Eleven on the corner had been picked clean, shelves visible through the windows were completely bare.

“Don’t think we’re gonna find much food,” Miles said, voicing what we were all thinking. “Looks like locusts came through.”

Salvador turned onto Main Street where all the small boutiques and specialty shops were clustered. He pulled the van to a stop, and I leaned forward.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to try the Walmart on the edge of town? More stuff there.”

Miles snorted. “Yeah, and more people thinking the same thing. Place that big is either completely stripped or turned into someone’s fortress by now. Too open, too many entrances to secure.”

“Small shops are safer,” Salvador agreed. “Easier to defend if we run into trouble.”

We tried the bakery first, then the deli next door. Both cleaned out, not even crumbs left. The little grocery store on the corner had nothing but some spilled flour and a few cans of creamed corn that had rolled under a shelf. Miles grabbed them anyway.

“Better than nothing,” he grunted.

When we reached “Threads,” the local clothing boutique, Salvador let out a low whistle. The front window was cracked but not shattered, and through it we could see racks still full of clothes.

“Jackpot,” Miles said, drawing his gun. “Let’s check it out.”

Inside, it was clear people had grabbed what they wanted in a hurry: the men’s basics were mostly gone, and so were some of the most fashionable pieces for women. But there were still plenty of shirts, pants, dresses, and underwear. We filled bag after bag, stuffing them into the back of the van. I didn’t care about sizes or styles. All I knew was that the people at Echelon needed to wear something besides the same clothes

“Load up everything you can carry,” Salvador instructed. “Focus on practical stuff, but at this point, anything clean is better than what we’ve got.”

We started grabbing armfuls of clothes, making trips back and forth to the truck. The street remained eerily quiet. No cars, no people. Just the sound of our boots on the pavement.

“Where is everyone?” I asked on our third trip, arms full of women’s jeans.

“Smart ones probably headed for the countryside,” Salvador said, scanning the rooftops as he walked. “Farms, cabins, places with wells and gardens. Town centers aren’t safe. Too many people fighting over limited resources.”

“And your daughter might be among them,” Miles added, surprising me with what almost sounded like sympathy. “If the guy who claimed her had any sense, he’d get out of town too.”

I nodded, trying to hold onto that hope as we continued loading clothes into the truck. But all I could think was that every minute we spent here was another minute I wasn’t looking for Olivia.

We were halfway through loading the last batch of clothes when I heard the sound of a car engine. My heart jumped into my throat as a police cruiser rolled up and stopped right next to our truck. Salvador and Miles both tensed up, hands hovering near their holstered weapons.

“Easy,” Salvador muttered under his breath. “Let’s see what they want.”

The driver’s door opened, and out stepped Sheriff Gregory Murphy, a guy I recognized but had never really dealt with. Tall fella, maybe mid-fifties, with a beer gut straining against his uniform and a face that looked like it was carved out of weathered wood. Had this permanent smirk like he was always in on some joke nobody else knew about. He had his hand resting casually on his holstered gun but didn’t draw it.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, grinning wide enough to show a gold tooth. “What do we have here? Some enterprising shoppers taking advantage of our town’s new self-service policy?”

The way he said it, all friendly-like but with something cold behind his eyes, made the hair on my neck stand up. This wasn’t the same guy who used to give speeches at the high school about drug awareness.

“No need to get jumpy, boys,” he said, noticing our stances. “Take those hands away from your guns unless you want today to get real interesting real quick.”

As if on cue, the passenger door opened, and a woman stepped out. My jaw nearly hit the pavement. She was wearing the bottom half of a police uniform, navy blue pants, duty belt with a gun, which she had drawn and was pointing casually in our direction, but she was completely topless. And not small either—large, firm breasts bounced slightly as she moved, nipples hard in the cool morning air. She had short blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and the kind of toned arms that said she worked out regularly. Her expression was all business, despite being half-naked.

“This here’s Officer Alexandra Marriott,” Sheriff Murphy said, strolling closer to us. “My second-in-command. Well, not so in command nowadays... What do you think of our new mandatory female uniform for the Chantwell PD?” He laughed and reached over to squeeze one of her breasts roughly. “Show the gentlemen what they’re missing, Alex.”

She turned slightly, giving us a better view while keeping her gun trained on us. “Sheriff likes his officers visible and accessible,” she said with a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

I felt sick to my stomach but kept my face neutral. This wasn’t the time to pick a fight. Miles was staring a bit too openly, while Salvador kept his eyes mostly on the gun in her hand.

“So,” Murphy said, looking at the pile of clothes in our arms and the open door of the boutique. “How many claimed women did you fellas get? Must be quite a collection if you need this many outfits.” He chuckled. “Lucky bastards.”

“We’re just passing through,” Salvador said carefully. “Not looking for any trouble.”

“We’ll be on our way soon,” Miles added.

Murphy’s eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed the Echelon logo on the side of our truck. His expression changed, still smiling, but more calculating now.

“You boys from Echelon?” He stepped closer, hands on his belt. “Funny you should show up. Had a couple of upset husbands come by me the other day, spinning some wild tale about their wives being held there. Something about experiments related to the claiming.” He cocked his head. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

Miles stepped forward, flashing a disarming grin at the Sheriff. “Experiments? Man, I don’t know about all that. We’ve got some women at Echelon, sure. Who doesn’t these days?” He chuckled, nodding toward the topless officer. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a nice setup too.”

I caught on to what he was doing and kept my mouth shut. Smart play.

“Those guys who came complaining?” Miles continued, shaking his head. “Their wives were already claimed fair and square. Some men just can’t accept the new world order, you know? We figured telling them we’re working on a way free them was better than putting bullets in them.” He shrugged. “Keeps them from coming back with guns blazing, for a while at least. You understand how it is.”

I noticed Salvador shifting slightly, making sure his holster was visible. Message received: Echelon wasn’t defenseless.

Sheriff Murphy studied Miles for a long moment, then barked out a laugh. “Smart move. Those types never want to believe the new reality.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, pushing his gut forward. “Well, help yourselves to whatever’s left in the stores. Though I doubt you’ll find much besides clothes. Food disappeared fast.” The way he patted his stomach made me think he knew exactly where a good chunk of it had gone.

“If you fellas need anything else,” Murphy continued, hooking his thumbs in his belt, “I’m here to help. For the right compensation, of course.” He winked. “We’re still the law around here, and folks who remember that tend to have an easier time.”

Officer Marriott shifted her stance, and Murphy casually draped an arm around her bare shoulders. “If you can’t reach me by phone—local towers are spotty these days—you can find me and my deputies out at Ridgeline Airfield. We’ve set up our operation there.”

The way he mentioned it, casual-like but making sure to drop that they had multiple deputies, all armed I assumed, was a clear warning: don’t mess with us.

“We’ve got food, medicine, fuel,” he added, his fingers idly stroking Marriott’s shoulder. “Could arrange protection too, keep away any troublemakers. All depends on what Echelon might have that interests me.”

Salvador nodded respectfully. “We’ll keep that in mind, Sheriff. Appreciate the offer.”

“You do that,” Murphy said, giving Marriott’s breast another squeeze before heading back to the cruiser. “Enjoy your shopping trip, gentlemen.”

Marriott holstered her weapon and followed him, giving us one last look over her shoulder, embarrassed, not proud, just… there. Like being topless in the middle of town was the most normal thing in the world now.

We watched in silence as they drove away, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered once they were out of sight.

“Welcome to the new world order,” Miles said grimly. “Let’s finish up and get out of here.”

We hit a few more stores but came up empty on food. Found an equipment shop with some camping gear, which Salvador thought could be useful for hunting and fishing, so we grabbed what we could. By the time we’d loaded everything into the truck, it was around 11 AM.

“Still plenty of daylight,” Salvador said, checking his watch. “Let’s keep looking.”

We drove around for another couple hours, seeing only small groups here and there. Most scurried away when they spotted us. The public library was clearly barricaded: boards over the windows, makeshift barriers at the entrance, and I spotted at least two guys with rifles on the roof.

“Guess they decided books are worth protecting,” Miles muttered.

“Or it’s just a good defensible building,” Salvador replied.

By early afternoon, we hadn’t found much else worth taking. Miles sighed and turned to me.

“Alright, let’s head to the campus. See if we can find Harry. I used to work with him a few years back. Weird fellow but reliable.”

My heart rate picked up. Finally. We’d been dicking around town for hours while Olivia was God knows where.

The art campus was eerily quiet when we pulled up. A few male students were hanging around one of the buildings, each with a girl or two. When they saw our truck, they hustled inside, dragging their women with them.

“Security office should be in the admin building,” I said, pointing toward the center of campus.

We found it easily enough, and it was definitely fortified. Metal shutters pulled down over the windows, furniture piled against the glass doors, and a handwritten sign that read “KEEP OUT” in red paint.

Salvador knocked hard on the door. “Hello? Anyone in there?”

“Fuck off!” came a muffled voice from inside. “We told you students already, you’re on your own! We got our own problems!”

Miles stepped forward. “Harry? It’s Miles Reeves from Echelon security. We’re not here for trouble. Got a father looking for his daughter, student here. Just want to check your security footage if you’ve still got it.”

Silence for a moment, then: “Miles? That really you?”

“In the flesh, man. Open up.”

After some scraping sounds and cursing, the door cracked open. A beefy guy with a receding hairline and a scraggly beard peered out, shotgun in hand. When he saw Miles, he lowered the weapon.

“Jesus Christ, man. Thought you were those frat assholes again.” He pulled the door open wider. “Come on in, quick.”

The security office was a disaster: food wrappers everywhere, sleeping bags in the corners, and the unmistakable smell of unwashed bodies and sex. Five young women lounged around in various states of undress. One completely naked, sprawled on a desk. Another wearing just a t-shirt, no bottoms. The others in bras and panties or less. College girls, all of them. They watched us with wary eyes.

“Don’t mind the mess,” Harry said, slapping Miles on the back. “Me and the boys have been holding down the fort. Campus went to shit after the claiming.” He glanced at the women. “Though it ain’t all bad, right?”

He grinned at Miles. “How you been, man? You get yourself some nice pussy over at Echelon? Gotta be some hot scientist types there.”

Miles nodded, playing along. “Oh yeah, got quite the harem going. Smart ones are the freakiest, you know?”

I clenched my jaw but kept quiet. These assholes were my ticket to finding Olivia.

Harry finally turned his attention to me, looking me up and down. “So you’re the one looking for your daughter, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended. “Olivia Appleton. Art student, second year.”

Harry’s face softened a bit. “Man, I’m sorry. A lot of poor girls got claimed that first day. Total chaos.” He shook his head, seemingly oblivious to the irony of expressing sympathy while half-naked claimed students lounged around his office. “Come on, I’ll show you the security feeds.”

He led us down a short hallway to a cramped room with several monitors. The setup was surprisingly sophisticated for a campus this size.

“Shit… What day was Claim day?” Harry asked, plopping down in a chair.

“Thursday,” I grumbled.

Harry nodded and started typing, pulling up footage from multiple cameras. “I’ll fast-forward through it. Tell me if you see her.”

The screens filled with chaos: students running, men grabbing women, some fighting, others just standing frozen in shock. My stomach turned watching it, knowing Olivia had been caught in that mess. It took us a moment to spot the guy were looking for.

“There!” I shouted suddenly. “Stop, go back!”

Harry rewound the footage. On one of the screens, a man was entering the dormitory building. Mid-thirties, stocky build, with a receding hairline and a leather jacket. Definitely not a professor or staff member from the looks of it. Not the type. With him were three young women, following him with that same eager look I’d seen in Wendy’s eyes. Two of them I didn’t recognize, but the other…

“That’s Mary,” I said, my mouth going dry. “One of Olivia’s best friends.”

We watched as they disappeared into the building. Harry fast-forwarded, and about ten minutes later, the same man emerged, now with six women in tow. My heart stopped when I spotted her.

“That’s her,” I said, pointing at the screen. “That’s Olivia.” My little girl, following this stranger like he was the most important person in her world. Strolling along as if they were all heading to a nice picnic in the park. “Son of a bitch used Mary as bait to get to the others.”

“Smart move,” Harry muttered, then quickly added, “I mean, terrible, but smart,” when he saw my expression.

“Can you follow them?” Salvador asked.

Harry switched between camera feeds, tracking the group as they moved across campus. The man led his little harem to the parking lot, where they all piled into a beat-up Subaru station wagon, clearly not meant for seven people.

“Can you zoom in on the license plate?” I asked, heart pounding.

Harry tapped a few keys, and the image zoomed. I could barely make out the letters and numbers through the grainy video, but they were still readable. I scribbled the plate number on my palm with a pen Miles handed me.

“Thank you,” I said to Harry, surprising myself with how genuinely grateful I felt despite everything else about this situation. “This is the first real lead I’ve had.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Harry said as we watched the car pull out of the lot. “They drive out of camera range here. Can’t tell you where they went from the footage.”

“It’s going to be like finding a needle in a haystack,” Miles added, shaking his head. “But at least it’s something.”

I stared at the number written on my palm. It wasn’t much, but it was more than I had an hour ago. Somewhere out there was my daughter, and now I had something to go on. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.