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Archived Sex Stories

Robbing the Bunker


Keywords: MF+ mc, ScFi
Part: 1 of 1
Author: Knave of Hearts
Title: Robbing the Bunker

Robbing the Bunker
(c) 1998, Knave of Hearts

* The Mind Control Device
You can live through the same thing, day in and day out, and
never know you're in a rut. Never, until the one day the Fates
reach out and offer you the chance to do something different.
That's the brass ring folks. And it only comes around once. Let
me tell you about how those three lovely ladies changed my life.

* A. Introduction
My name is Jack Lostridge and for years I lived in the quiet
little Appalachian town of Mountain View. I spent my whole life
there - born in the little hospital, went to school here, got a
job there. The same with all of my friends. Most folks accepted
this as the "way it should be." I was ready for a change. One
day I got my wish.

I worked at a quiet little place called Victory Station. Once
you drove through the gates and got past the armed guards, it was
actually kind of pretty, in a Cold War-concrete kind of way. If
you've ever seen pictures of the Maginot Line, that's what
Victory Station looked like. Beautiful green scenery dotted with
dark brown concrete tumors.

You see, Mountain View was tucked away in the beautiful green
hills of Virginia, isolated from the rest of the world by winding
roads and the fact that nothing ever happened there. The only
reason the town existed at all was the once secret complex of
bunkers the government had built and inhabited from WW II through
the Cold War. During the Cold War, everyone had known that
something was going on "round Victory Station." Anyone foolish
enough to ask too many questions got visited by men in suits.
Government agents, just like in the movies. The smart ones got
quiet, the others weren't seen again. Rumors flew about people
reading the mail and listening to telephones, but the Mountain
View folks were patriotic Americans and they believed that this
was their part in the war against Communism. They endured what
inconveniences there were as badges of honor.

The government sold the bunkers to a private salvage firm a few
years ago. The only problem was that certain records and
blueprints were missing, meaning that before salvage crews could
dismantle and retrieve equipment, "scouts" had to explore the
dark passages and map out the extensive complex. That's where I
came in.

After graduating from the local college, I didn't know what I
wanted to do. So I did the same thing everyone else did and got
a job at Victory Station. The idea that I got paid to crawl
around a super-secret government bunker complex finding the lost
treasures of some mad scientist was exciting at first. I made-
believe that I was Indiana Jones. The money wasn't bad either.
But after awhile, it got to be like any other unskilled job -
menial and routine.

To make matters worse, I worked with complete morons. One week
last fall, Sam "Kiss Ass" Parker reported me to the boss for
smoking inside the bunker. Ordinarily this would have gotten me
a slap on the wrist, but Sam made sure our boss George heard
about my "safety violation" in front of a crowd. I got chewed
out and put on "scout" detail.

Scout detail was where people got sent down into the bunker ahead
of the salvage teams to map the lower levels and find areas that
might yield high value items. Any excuse to not see Sam's face
might have been viewed as a reward but scout detail was the
company's way to get rid of troublemakers. Scouts worked in the
dark, climbing down questionable stairs, exploring what might be
booby-trapped rooms. All for less pay. What a deal.

So after Sam shafted me, I got assigned to scout out area K322 in
bunker 7. I punched my time card, picked up my gear at the admin
area, and hopped on the shuttle bus. I parked my 60 pound
backpack next to me and sat back to enjoy the ride. Scouts
carried everything with them: oxygen, acetylene, explosives and
more. Everything you needed to open doors and cut through locks
in the depths of deep, cold, concrete hole.

As we rode up the road I saw the entire complex. There were
twelve bunkers in all at Victory Station, spread out along the
narrow valley. Some were built back into the hills, like
reinforced concrete caves. Others were low green mounds that
looked like perfectly symmetrical hills. Tunnels interconnected
them all, making the entire complex a gigantic rabbit warren.

Number seven was one of the big caves, so I entered through the
airlock and signed in. The guards didn't even look at you on the
way in, they were more interested in people trying to smuggle
things out. I couldn't imagine what you'd want to steal from
this place. Most of what we salvaged was wire or pipe and the
company only got a few dollars on the ton, so petty theft was

* B. Into the Secret Lab
The freight elevator took me past the levels we'd already mapped.
I walked down a few flights of stairs, my footsteps clanging in
the dark. The bunkers were mapped on a big 3-D grid, so if you
can imagine looking at a floor plan of a huge skyscraper, area
K322 was in square K3 on the 22nd floor. The only difference
between bunker seven and a skyscraper was that the whole thing
was underground and the first floor was the one closest to the

Someone else had started this level so I didn't have to worry
when I opened the stairwell door. I strapped on my breathing
mask and lit my miner's hat. Stepping off the stairs, I turned
on my tape recorder and started looking in rooms. It was a great
job if you liked talking to yourself. You'd announce the room
your facing, carefully open the door, and then walk around the
room describing its contents. Some areas were industrial spaces,
some were offices, and others were residential areas. If there
was anything like a generator or some other high-value salvage
item, you would mark it in your notebook and move on. What wasn't
marked for salvage was wrecked and sold for scrap. Even the
stairs and floors were scrapped, leaving only an emergency exit
from the bowels of the bunker.

K322 looked like a routine office area from the first few rooms I
looked in. One of the steel doors was locked, not an unusual
event, so I pulled my "Master key" from my belt and let myself
in. The "key" was a small acetylene torch I used to cut the
hinges off the steel doors. Once the hinges were cut, I flattened
myself against the wall and let the door fall. No explosions,
for what I was being paid, I'm no hero.

Behind the door was an office area. I made a quick sweep and
then started a thorough search of the area. Inside were a small
reception office, a file room, and an open area that had lots of
electrical equipment. It was obviously a research lab. Others
had been found in the bunker complex, but this one looked as if
it had not been evacuated and cleaned out as the others had.
Books were still on shelves and desks looked like their occupants
would return from a coffee break at any moment. The only eerie
thing was that everything was covered in a thick blanket of dust.

* C. Salvaging the Files of Dr. Brantwell
Searching this place was like walking through someone else's
house. Everything was in the same place someone left it years
ago. I started in the front office. It looked like your basic
reception area. The pictures on the receptionist's desk showed a
pretty blonde dressed in 1960's style. Her date book sat open to
September 13, 1968. I also checked out the other offices. They
were small with the gray metal furniture. What I noticed was
that, aside from a small number of reference texts, none of the
desks had notebooks, not even pads to take phone messages on.
Most of the desks didn't even have drawers.

Crossing the hall, I found the file room. It was packed from
floor to ceiling with gray file cabinets and wooden shelves. Row
upon row of notebooks and boxes. Everything had a file and
project number on it. Nice and neat. Whoever had taken care of
this place had been anal to the max. I crossed the reception
area again and moved on to the next room.

Beyond the secretary's desk was a large office. This office suite
had nicer, wooden furniture. I had entered "suit territory."
Everything inside spoke of old World taste and elegance. I sat
in the large leather chair behind the huge wood desk. The
desktop looked neat, even with thirty years of dust on it. I
reached down to the desk's file drawer and I met with the first
surprise. It was locked. Now what kind of person keeps stuff in
a locked drawer when his office is 14 stories underground behind
several steel doors? So, like an inquisitive kid who had just
found a locked drawer in his parent's room, I jimmied the lock
and looked inside.

A collection of bound books sat inside the drawer. The books had
dates that ranged from the thirties to the sixties. I took the
oldest one, dated 1935, and went back to the stairwell for lunch.
Sitting on the metal stairs was uncomfortable, but it beat eating
dust. I quickly taped a plastic sheet over the door to stop any
drafts and then took my break.

Reading the book while I ate, I felt like I was intruding on
another world. The book was the diary of a Dr. Louis Brantwell,
a research scientist from Europe. Skipping through entries, I
found where he started the diary on the ship while coming over to
America. Originally from Dublin, he'd spent his student years in
England. From the way he wrote, it seemed that his true love was
pure, scientific research. The process of discovery was what
made him happy. He studied a lot about the human mind, wondering
how much more he could do if not for the obstacles of bureaucracy
and funding. On the ship, he was elated. His new job with the
Miskatonic University Department of Physics would allow him to do
his own projects as leader of a research team.

I look through the diary for a while and then glanced at my
watch. I'd been reading for almost three hours. No wonder my
butt was asleep! Brantwell's diary was so interesting I wanted
to read some more, so I tucked it into one of the inside pockets
of my big fireman's coat. Going back to the office, I tried to
think of a way to get the other books out without getting caught.
My backpack seemed too obvious, but was the only thing big enough
for the four other books. If I had gotten caught, I would have
lost my job. But then again, it wasn't much of a job to lose and
this Brantwell guy was the most interesting thing to come down
the pipe in a long time. As was usual for a Friday afternoon,
the guard barely glanced at me as I signed out and lined up for
the bus.

I spent the evening reading through Brantwell's diary. The first
book covered Brantwell's time at Miskatonic through the end of
World War II, a period of about sixteen years. During that time,
his research had taken him into the area of metaphysics. He'd
done his dissertation work on "The Electromagnetic Waves
Generated by Human Brain Activity" but had branched out into time
travel, weapons, and levitation belts while at Miskatonic. He
seemed to have the imagination of Jules Verne, the invention of
Nikolas Tesla, and the occult knowledge of Alistair Crowley.
Reading the diaries on his couch, I concluded that Brantwell was
a smart man, but not one that you would want to invite to a

After the War started, the government had approached Brantwell to
continue his work. At first, he was elated, writing about how
much work he could do now that he didn't have to teach or fight
the Board of Deans for research funds. His tone changed over
time, becoming angry with the bureaucrats that he had to report
to. The Doctor didn't want to waste time implementing his
discoveries as real world inventions. His love was pure science,
not the "grubby work of engineers." Once he'd discovered what
he'd set out to find, he wanted to move on.

His big project at the time was something called a Mind Control
Device. An expansion of Dr. Brantwell's dissertation work, this
project attempted to allow thoughts to be projected into people's
minds. It was highly successful and the team was soon
experimenting with human subjects. As a result of his new work,
he had started to collect a group of followers. Some had joined
him at the University, others when he worked at Victory Station.
This "inner circle" as he called it led the individual projects
within his lab. The names of Peter Lorimar, Michael Kent, and
Sylvester Lavagre cropped up in the diaries over and over. These
were his lead researchers on the Device and Dr. Brantwell wrote
about their work like a proud father or mentor.

The diaries wrote in philosophic terms about the wonders and
depths of the human mind, but also of the greedy demands the
bureaucrats made on him. Rather than let him move into another
project, they wanted him to create a device that would allow
their agents to read other people's minds. Grudgingly the
researchers complied but they became more furtive, annoyed at the
requirements placed upon them.

I read the diaries all weekend, making notes on the files and
folders Brantwell referenced. He seemed to be a cagey customer,
writing about how his lab staff often planted "red herrings" in
the lab reports to confuse and mislead his bosses. Guided by the
diaries, I noted only material on the experiments that worked.
The only thing I couldn't find in the diaries was who Brantwell
worked for or reported to.

* D. Experimenting with the Mind Control Device
Monday morning I was ready for work. I went through the usual
routine and returned to bunker 7. I made a sweep through the lab
area, working my way down the corridor past the conference room
and into the supply area. After a few hours of searching to
satisfy my taskmasters, I returned to the file room. Using the
list I had prepared, I selected several files on the Mind Control
Device. Brantwell had been careful to mix real information in
with false leads, so it took me a while to assemble the notes and
schematics of the Device.

The diaries indicated that this was one of Brantwell's most
successful inventions, he'd even made a few prototypes. I
figured if I wanted proof that Brantwell was more than a
crackpot, this would be the device to try. The latest MC
prototype was missing, so I took the next most advanced one. It
was a head-mounted gizmo that looked like a wide headband studded
with metal pads. A wire cord connected the headband to a metal
box the size of a lunch box. I unhooked the two pieces, putting
the headband in my helmet and the box in my toolbox. I hid the
folder in a bag I'd suspended between my shoulder blades. Lying
under my backpack, no one would see it there. I got back to the
admin building easily enough, carefully transferring everything
I've taken from the bunker into my gym bag. Just like last time,
I made it home without any problems.

Sitting in my apartment, I tried to figure out how I was going to
test Brantwell's Mind Control Device. I poured myself a drink
and took another look at the diaries. The entries about the
device were filled with psycho-babble and occult mumbo-jumbo.
Brantwell described a person's brain like a house. The parts
with the basic functions, like respiration and circulation, were
the basement. Areas that control common functions were analogous
to the living room or dining room. Personal things like memories
were kept in the upstairs rooms.

All I had to do was strap on the device and it projected my
thoughts into a subject's mind, just as if I was a visitor in
their house. A burglar might be a more fitting description.
Brantwell wrote that he had the most success entering other
people's minds through the "basement" of their minds, working his
way up the stairs and into their higher level thoughts. Once
upstairs with the higher order brain functions, he would amplify
the ones that suited him while dampening the others. Avatars
symbolized a person's inhibitions, urges, and desires. They
were representations of basic human emotions and could be
manipulated to produce a desired effect. It all sounded very

I strapped the headband on and connected it to the metal box.
The lab notes said that the box was the transmitter/receiver, the
part that sent my brain waves and received the subject's so I
could monitor them. The notes also said that the device worked
best when it was pointed at the subject with no obstructions.

Great, I thought, all I have to do is invite someone in off the
street and get them to stand still long enough for me to read
their mind. I took a long pull from my glass.

I needed to see how the Device works before declaring this a
success. Looking out the window I saw Annette, one of the girls
that lived above the garage, talking with a guy in her apartment.
I figured that was as good a test as any so I aimed the box at
her through the window and ducked out of sight. Concentrating, I
could hear what she was telling the guy. I narrowed my eyes and
concentrated some more, actually seeing the door to her mind.

Entering her mind, I imagined the staircase Brantwell wrote
about. I worked my way to the "living room" and could see what
she saw. I toured her mind, finding her thoughts and habits,
likes and dislikes. Drifting upstairs, I found her memories,
urges, and inhibitions. It was kind of scary, being able to look
into a person's mind this way.

I'd only seen Annette a handful of times, mostly to say hello to
in the parking lot, but after just a few seconds, I could tell
you about the boy she lost her virginity to and the way she that
liked her pizza. Just like the upstairs of a house, Annette's
mind had a hallway of doors. Doors were supposed to be
inhibitions, suppressed urges, and hidden desires. I opened one
and peered in. A small girl lay curled in bed, clutching a
stuffed lion under one arm, sound asleep. Another door hid a
dark empty room. The next one I came to was cracked open. An
image of Annette, bare naked with a blazing look of lust in her
eyes, lay on a bed inside the room. I pushed this door open and
let her sex goddess avatar loose. The translucent image of
Annette walked down the hall toward the stairs.

Normally she was sexy and playful in a coquettish sort of way,
now Annette was horny. She looked at the guy wondering how to
get him to make a move on her. His name was Jerry and she's
hoped he was as good in bed as her friend Kaitlyn had told her.
Unfortunately, Jerry just kept talking about his new motorcycle.

It was as if I was sitting in her living room watching TV. Her
mind was some kind of movie, playing itself out in front of me.
All that was missing was a soundtrack. I watched her impatience
with her date grow, she wanted sex but still wasn't to the point
of throwing herself on him. After a few more moments, I watched
her give up on Jerry and make her move.

Taking a drink from her wineglass, Annette coyly spread her legs
to give Jerry a good view of her panties. She could tell she'd
been successful in capturing his attention when he stumbled over
a sentence. Her avatar seemed to grow; its light burning
brighter. On the couch, she scooted closer to him, hooking her
leg over his.

"Go ahead Jerry. Take a good look," she purred into his ear.

Jerry slid his hand up her thigh. His fingers brushed against
the skin at the top of her stockings. She leaned over and kissed
him deeply. He put his glass on the table behind the sofa and
pushed her dress straps from her shoulders. Her bare nipples
were erect and throbbing. He leaned forward to suck them.
Holding his head to her breast, Annette placed her other hand in
his lap. From the size of the bulge Kaitlyn hadn't been
exaggerating about the size of his tool. Sliding off his lap,
Annette unzipped his pants and freed his throbbing cock. She
licked the sensitive underside of his cock, running her tongue
around the bottom of its ridged head.

It was the best skin flick I'd ever seen. I'd never seen a movie
made from the girl's point of view and now I was watching one
from the front row. It was as if a projection of myself was
sitting in her living room watching and feeling the action. Not
only could I see Annette giving Jerry a blowjob, I could see how
it affected her. She was getting really hot, digging the feel of
her tongue sliding around his big rod. When she ran her mouth
down its length, I could tell it was the feel of the soft
sensitive skin over the throbbing muscle that made her wet with
anticipation. I was being bombarded by unusual sensations: the
smell of a Jerry's crotch, the wet feeling of Annette's pussy,
and her building anticipation of feeling him inside her.

Annette's experience told her that he was close to coming. I
could tell that having him come in her mouth wasn't a problem but
she didn't want him to come too soon and leave her without what
she really wanted, his cock splitting her pussy. Jerry pushed
her back on to the sofa, stripping off her panties and diving on
her wet snatch. Whatever his assets in the dick department,
Annette didn't think too much of his pussy liking talent. She
left him down there long enough to let him get a good taste of
her before pulling him up onto the sofa.

"Now fuck me." I could tell she was done with the preliminaries.

I watched as he put his thick, stiff cock against her hole. She
tilted her hips to give him a better angle, gasping with delight
as his bulbous head entered her. Slowly, he worked himself into
her buttery soft love-tunnel by taking short, light strokes.
After a few moments, Jerry had buried his prick inside her. He
stopped for a moment to enjoy the feeling. Annette's hips moved,
urging him to generate the friction she so desired.

"So deep. . . More. . . Faster." Her hands grasped his hips,
tugging at him to pick up the pace of his thrusts.

He plunged his cock into her, driving it all the way in before
reversing his course. At the apex of each stroke, he felt his
shaven balls slap against her tight ass. Annette's small firm
tits shook with each thrust as he fucked her slow and hard. He
could feel his balls swell with his on-rushing orgasm. Annette
wanted more, she rolled over on to her hands and knees, her ass
sticking into the air.

"Now fuck me hard. I want your come inside of me." He didn't
say a word as he positioned himself behind her.

From my vantage point, I could tell that Annette wanted to come
and to get there she wanted his cock hard and fast. Jerry had
been teasing her and, even though she'd enjoyed the feeling of
his cock slowly gliding in and out of her tight, wet pussy, she
was ready to feel him slam his meat into her.

Jerry's cock slid into her in a single stroke. Annette placed
one hand on her mound, massaging her clit as Jerry started a
strong, steady pace. I could tell that this was what Annette had
been wanting all evening. His hands pulled her hips back to meet
his thrusts. The impact of their bodies made a wet slapping
sound. Her pussy fluttered as her orgasm built, clamping and
releasing his cock from its silky vise. She could feel him start
to tense up and waited for the warm rush of his come. Instead,
he pulled out of her hot, twat and rolled her over. Her hand
moved in a blur over her clit. As she opened her mouth to
complain, the first shots of jism erupted from his cock. The
sight of him jerking off over her sent Annette over the edge.
Her thighs clamped down on her hand as the waves of pleasure
overtook her.

Sitting in her mind, I felt as if I'd been pulled under a warm,
tropical wave.

A few minutes later, they were sitting on the sofa talking. I
switched off the device and went into the bathroom to cleanup.
Caught up in Annette's feelings, I'd come all over myself without
even realizing it. The device definitely worked. Now all I had
to do was figure out how to use it first hand rather than as a

Now that I knew the device worked, I needed to test drive it. I
worked the next few days in a preoccupied daze trying to come up
with a plan for using the MC Device. I mounted the device's
headband inside an old baseball cap, sewing the band so that the
metal pads made firm contact with my scalp and went looking for
the target of opportunity that would offer me the chance to test
the device.

I had gone all week with the MC Device in my hat, feeling
frustrated that I couldn't proceed with the test. Every time I
saw a woman I was interested in, the situation didn't allow me to
concentrate or there were too many people around or something
else happened.

I had decided that if I couldn't find anything that day, I would
try a hooker. I left work with my cap on and the transmitter in
my gym bag. I walked out of the admin area about to go cruising
the local strip looking for the first thing that caught my eye,
when inspiration came in a blinding flash. The boss' secretary,
Francine, was walking up the steps into the building carrying
some files. Everyone had always admired her red hair, blue eyes,
and fantastic body. I stopped and watched her legs work under
her tight white miniskirt under the pretense of lighting a
cigarette. As luck would have it she struggled with the door,
dropping some of the files in the process. I jumped forward to
give her a hand.

Picking up the files together, we looked into each other's eyes.
The clarity of her deep violet eyes shocked me. She smiled and
thanked me as I helped her get through the door and pile the
files on her desk. We started to chat, small talk about the
weather and movies we'd seen on TV. Casually, I sat down on the
waiting room couch and worked to keep the conversation flowing.
She walked around the office, locking up, and turning off lights.

She was putting things away in the safe, her back turned to me
offering me a fantastic view of her tight ass, when I snuck my
arm into my gym bag. I rested my arm on top of my bag, letting
the cord pass unseen down my sleeve to the transmitter. Quickly,
I connected the device's cord to the transmitter and concentrated
on my unsuspecting target. Francine was focused on the safe's
combination and I made a swift, smooth entry into her mind.

I moved through her "ground floor" noting details about her.
Entering the sensory areas of her brain, I noticed that she
stared at me oddly, wondering why I don't respond to her
question. I was so deeply connected to my projection I inserted
my response directly into her mind.

She was puzzled. It seemed to her that she knew my answer
without hearing my response. I started to panic. I could feel a
force coalescing around me, keeping me from seeing things in her
mind cleanly. I closed my eyes, willing my projection to push
its way through the cloying resistance.

I struggled up the stairs of her mind, finally finding myself
with her psyche. I opened the first door I came to, stepping
inside and looking around. An image of Francine in a warm
kitchen filled with talkative people filled the room. I guessed
that this was her sense of family. In the next room an image of
her lay naked on a forest floor, her chest heaving with racking
sobs. A network of scratches and bruises criss-crossed her
shuddering flanks. She huddled against a fallen tree, pitifully
trying to escape the freezing wind that whistled through the
barren, wintry scene. I suddenly knew why she had invited me, a
passing acquaintance, in to be with her as she locked up. She
was afraid of being lonely. Not just alone, you understand, I
mean forlorn, in utter endless solitude.

Dispirited, I closed the door and checked the latch. I crossed
the hall and approached the next door apprehensively. I opened
the door slowly, unsure of what I might find inside. Unlike
Annette's nympho-avatar, brazenly pursuing physical sex,
Francine's sexual avatar was more reserved.

She wanted sex but she also wanted the seduction, the romance
that she felt was an essential complement to the physical act.
Her avatar was dressed in a sensuous, tantalizing, nightgown.
The boudoir setting reminded me of Marlene Dietrich in a vamp
seduction scene. I took the avatar by its hand and led it
downstairs. I invited her to seduce me, stimulating her natural
sexual drive and suppressing her natural cautions and

A flush crept up her neck. I saw her hesitate, her hand
trembling as she played with the neckline of her jacket. The
radio played a dance tune. Seeing an opportunity, I took control
of her mind.

"Dance for me." I told the vamp in front of me.

A faraway look entered her eyes. Her body swayed to the radio's
music. Placing her hands behind her head, she danced in a tight
circle, turning around to show me her lithesome form. Her tight
jacket stretched tight across her breasts, its white fabric
emphasizing the flush that had crept up her neck and her auburn
hair. She unbuttoned the jacket slowly, a button for each chorus
of the song.

She traced the outline of her blue bra with her fingertips. A
shrug of her shoulders dropped the jacket on to the floor.
Slipping her index finger under the lacy fabric, she rubbed her
nipple lightly. Thoroughly aroused, Francine posed in her bra
and skirt.

There was no question what she had in mind. I had pushed her to
this point with unspoken promises of carnal satisfaction and
erotic bliss. It was time to get down to business.

Modeling her body, she flashed me glimpses of her thigh before
turning around and showing off her shapely ass. Slowly she
unzipped her skirt and gave me tantalizing glances of the cleft
of her cheeks. Francine shimmied out of her skirt and danced for
me in her thong bikini and bra. Her avatar reflected her growing
excitement, slowly shedding it peignoir and reclining on the sofa
in her mind's living room.

Just as she started to reach for her bra snap, she hesitated. A
flash of caution had burst from a corner of her mind. You don't
know him, you're in a public place it screamed, urging her to
revert to her normal sensible self. Reacting quickly, I enflamed
her vanity and suppressed her caution to get her to continue.
Her desire won over her discretion. I sensed that there would be
no further interruptions. She unsnapped her bra, massaging her
breasts, and presented them to me. The paleness of her skin
highlighted the flush of excitement that still spread across her
slender neck.

I wasn't in control anymore. I didn't need to be. She was
willingly doing everything I wanted her to do. I withdrew my
mind from hers and let nature take its course. She felt the
desire to show herself to me. She played with the waistband of
her bikini, playing peek-a-boo with the wisps of pubic hair at
the top of her mound. Turning and moving her hips in a slow,
languid spiral she shed her thong bikini. As she came out of her
turn, I saw her nude body for the first time. She leaned back on
to her desk, spreading her knees and offering her moist pussy for
my inspection.

Rising from my seat on the couch, I approached Francine. Sinking
to my knees in front of the desk, I smelled her excitement. It
was warm and sweet. Reaching forward with my tongue, I tasted
her. She enjoyed it, leaning farther back onto the desk. I
teased her pussy, carefully avoiding her clit with my tongue. My
tongue drew circles around her hole, tickling her clit every few
circuits to keep it stimulated.

Eager for my touch, Francine pulled my head into her crotch
whispering "Eat me. Eat my hot red pussy."

Catching her eagerness, I ate her pussy with more vigor, lightly
nibbling her clit with my teeth. Extending my tongue, I fucked
her hot and ready twat. She was so wet, her juices ran down my

Wanting to prolong this incredible moment, I decided to tease her
a bit since I didn't want her to come too soon. I kissed my way
up her soft body, finally lavishing attention on her generous
breasts. They were perfect grapefruit sized globes, each nipple
standing red and eager from her soft pale skin. I lifted each
breast to my mouth, in turn, and sucked on its erect nipple.
Meanwhile her hips sought mine, straining to reach release.

Deciding that it was time to satisfy her needs, I dropped my
pants and I placed the head of my cock against her opening.
Francine drew her knees up to her chest, inviting me to enter
her. Her head craned downward to watch as I pushed my cock into
her. The sensation was exquisite. Savoring the feel of her wet,
tight grip, I pushed my hips slowly towards hers. The feeling
was like parting thick, warm chocolate. Her cunt's silken
tightness grasped me and drew my cock inward. As I reached my
full depth inside her, we both groaned. I felt the limits of her
cunt and knew that I was as deep as any man could go inside her.

I started a long, measured stroke, pausing at either end of the
cycle. My pumping action drew her juices from the depths of her
body, spilling down her thighs onto her ass. She wanted more and
told me to go faster. Increasing my tempo, I tried to please
her. My hips pumping faster and faster until my body slammed
into hers with full force. Her eyes screwed shut in animalistic
passion, she grunted in time with my thrusts. Holding her knees
against her bouncing breasts, she gave me full ccess to her
deepest recesses.

The primal parts of my brain took over. My body craved release
and spurred me to thrust my cock piston-like into her love
channel. The force of my thrusts caused my balls to slap against
her ass, keeping time like an obscene metronome. The friction
became too much for us. I felt my cum explode from my balls, as
if my insides were being sucked out of my cock. We climaxed in a
chorus of moans and wordless grunts.

We lay on the tousled desktop for a few moments, catching our
breath and holding each other. A light dew of sweat covered us
both, testimony to our exertions. A parting kiss held us for a
moment. We climbed off the desk and struggled into our clothes.
Francine went into the bathroom while I tidied up as best I could
with a tissue. After we had collected ourselves, I smiled at
her. Our bodies pressed together in a last kiss.

"We need to go." Her voice was almost a whisper, tinged with
something that may have been sadness. Nodding, I gathered by gym
bag as she turned off the lights. We walked together to the
parking lot and said good night.

* E. Modernizing the MC Device
I got home that night with my head swimming from my newfound
power. Digging out the schematics of the Mind Control Device, I
set about figuring them out so I could build my own. My degree
was in electrical engineering so I dug out my old textbooks and
got to work. Drunk with the knowledge that electronics
technology had exploded in the last 30 years, I was confident
that I could build, if not improve upon, Brantwell's design. It
was like doing an obscure homework problem.

I identified the functions of each segment of the circuitry.
Some were very basic: frequency amplifiers, filters, wave
transformers, and bridges. All parts of a classic transmitter
and receiver set. The challenges came in some of the specialized
parts. The input/output ports to the sender's brain were highly
complex. I struggled for many hours trying to translate the
1950's era vacuum tube drawings to current integrated chip
technology. After several sleepless nights, I had a design that
I was fairly confident would work.

My next step was to call up a buddy that still worked at the
college in the Electrical Technology department. A few cases of
beer and I had access to all the parts I needed. I drew my
circuit boards long hand and then scribed them on to boards I
bought at a local hobby shop. After a couple of weeks of not
sleeping, I probably looked more like a mad scientist than Dr.
Brantwell but it was worth the effort.

My Mind Control device looked more like an ornate necklace than
the futuristic crown that Dr. Brantwell's team had produced.
Signals were picked up from the sender's lower cortex, amplified
and modulated for transmission, and then transmitted to the

After three weeks of hard work, I went back to the lab and ran my
device on the test bench. A few minor adjustments were necessary
but everything performed within specifications. All I needed now
was another subject.

I decided to start testing my device at the same place I tested
the older device, I looked for a neighbor to eavesdrop on. I
found my target. Annette had another guest. They looked as if
they had just returned from a night on the town. He was in a
suit. She in a long gold sheaf dress, her hair arranged in a
sophisticated style atop her head. They embraced at the door. I
took a quick peek inside her mind, eager to see what she had
planned for the evening.

The Aphrodite-like image of her sexual avatar was all ready in
control of her mind. I let the situation develop on its own,
watching her give her date a long, deep French kiss. Going
"upstairs" in her mind, I looked in on her recent memories. She
had been more sexually aroused than normal, masturbating twice a
day and even having some uncharacteristic one night stands. I
realized that by letting her sexual avatar loose without its
normal restraints, I had left her in that state after our last
meeting. As I explored her memories, Annette dragged her date, a
young law clerk named Victor, into her apartment.

Victor was more eager than Jerry had been, quickly responding to
the sexual signals that Annette had been sending him all night.
Annette got Victor into her living room where she allowed him to
strip and fondle her. Spurred on by her unfettered desire, she
hungrily pulled his cock from his pants and got him hard. While
she sucked him, I set a control that urged her toward anal sex.
She had buried that desire in the back of her mind, not pursuing
it as much out of dislike as disinterest.

As they traded oral pleasures, I enhanced her curiosity,
tantalizing her with curiosity. Turning around on all fours, she
offered him her forbidden orifice. Victor, also under the
influence of one of my controls, accepted the offer and slowly
worked his long cock into her ass. I amplified sensations of
pleasure and damped the feelings of pain and discomfort, spurring
them on. They increase the pace of their fucking, I made sure
that I played up the "forbidden pleasures" of their sodomy. I
made Victor felt the tightness of her ass, while at the same
time, she relished the fullness of his cock inside her nether
hole. After a few moments of deep, steamy sex, he pulled his
dick out of her ass and came on her tits. This time, I made sure
to reset the natural restrictions on the avatars before releasing
my dominance over Annette and Victor.

Letting them relax in each other's arms in the afterglow of their
coupling, I sat down to analyze what I had discovered. I had
been able to influence both of them to do something that they had
not planned, or even wanted, to do. Making notes of my own, I
recorded my sensations and observations of other people's minds.
So far, I had been able to observe and enhance repressed desires
as an observer. I needed some way of testing my device's ability
to control others while I was involved in the scene.

The opportunity to experiment this test case came almost
immediately. Lucy, the good looking woman who lived downstairs
knocked on my door and asked me to help her fix her sink.
Already horny from orchestrating Annette and Victor, I didn't
think twice about following her back to her apartment. The sight
of her long, tan legs disappearing into her miniskirt gave me all
of the impetus I needed.

Slipping into another human's mind came easier now that I had
practice. My goal was to entice Lucy, almost a perfect stranger,
into heated passion. By the time we got to her apartment, I
didn't even get a chance to look at her sink. In fact, we had
not made it past her living room sofa before we fell into each
other's arms, stripping our clothes off in hasty passion. A
heated encounter ensued; her raw animal desire left me amazed at
what simmered beneath Lucy's calm, responsible demeanor. There
were moments when I wasn't sure that I was really in control as
her lust swept me along like a raging river. It was as if I had
broken a dam and was in danger of being drowned in the flood.

Spent, I lay beside her as she slept. I rolled onto my back and
reviewed my progress. My device worked perfectly, allowing me to
use Lucy's suppressed desires to lead her into a steamy afternoon
in her bed. But the sex was only the short term benefit, more
importantly I had discovered Lucy's hidden secrets. I kissed her
forehead lightly and carefully got out of bed. I looked at her
angelic face, framed by her long, tousled hair, and knew that I
would be back.

I went back upstairs feeling very satisfied. I had gotten a to
spend a few fantastic hours having sex with a beautiful, sensual
woman. I had also done a thorough job investigating her mind.
My Mind Control necklace was a single guy's dream, sex on demand
with beautiful women without the dating hassle before or the
emotional baggage afterward.

The next day, I decided a further test was in order. Remembering
that Lucy had a repressed desire to make love to another woman, I
decided to engineer an opportunity for her. Watching out my
window, I waited until her roommate Kaitlyn came home and parked
in the driveway. I entered her mind and looked around, noting
where certain emotions and impulses were located. Gently, I
pushed her mundane thoughts of work and grocery lists into the
background. At the same time I let her sexual avatar out of its
corner of her mind. I slowly aroused her, eventually causing her
to seduce Lucy almost as soon as she entered the apartment.

Kaitlyn found Lucy changing in her room. Reaching around her
roommate from behind, Kaitlyn nuzzled her face into Lucy's neck.
Just as I had done with Kaitlyn, I brought Lucy's suppressed
curiosity forward, encouraging her to live out her fantasy. A
tender, gentle scene unfolded. Rather than the raw, demanding
sex I had experienced with Lucy, she was tentative, almost
submissive with the other woman. Watching the love scene through
their eyes, I marveled at the differences between lesbian and
heterosexual love. In a slow, languid pace, the two roommates
teased, licked, and fondled each other to climax again and again.
After witnessing and feeling their several earth-shattering
orgasms, I was left weak and covered in my own cum. My
modernized MC Device was a success.

* F. Suspicious Sam
Back at work, Sam was one of George's snitches and my hated
rival. I can't remember when Sam started hating me, or even why
we continued to dislike each other after working together for
several years, but we did. It was mostly petty stuff, I'd avoid
him and he'd snitch on me. Our boss, George knew about it and,
as long as it didn't interfere with work, left us alone. Now Sam
knew that I was being punished with the scout detail to the lab
level. But I guess her got a suspicion that I wasn't bringing up
a lot of inventory reports from the level I was supposed to be
surveying. Sam confronted me one night at quitting time,
accusing me of being lazy and sleeping on the job. I laughed at
him, telling him that he should worry about himself rather than
about my work habits. Looking over to the admin building, I saw
George standing in the window, watching the whole scene. I
nodded toward him but he turned away from the window without
acknowledging either Sam's scene or my nod.


George was looking at the inventory slips Jack had submitted for
that week. Since most of the items were electrical equipment,
George was happy because that indicated a lot of wiring, which in
turn indicated profit. He initialed the slips and put them in a
routing envelope. He shrugged on his coat and left his office.
On his way out, George walked through the distribution room.
Facing a wall of pigeon hole boxes, he ran his eyes across the
tags which noted which offices each box belonged to. He dropped
the envelope containing Jack's inventory slips into the only
distribution box without a nametag. For a moment he wondered who
emptied that box and read the inventory slips, but then he
remembered Larry.

Larry had asked those same questions. At first it had been a
joke between the supervisors, "I'm dropping off distro to the
Black Hole." But then Larry had started poking around, hanging
out near the distro room and watching who came to pick up the
envelopes that had no routing names. Pretty soon Larry had an
accident. He was OK, as long as you don't unplug his respirator.
The doctors say he's got the brain of a lizard. George concluded
that it was easier to do what your told and not ask silly

The distro boxes were emptied as usual. The courier loaded
everything into his car and made his rounds of the offices and
buildings on his route. The envelopes from the box with no name
were taken to a big mailroom in a complex of buildings in a
nearby city. A mail room worker placed them in a plastic tub and
sent the tub along a conveyor belt. The tub entered a long
tunnel between two buildings but, when it left, it was empty.

Deep beneath the office buildings, inside a window-less office
brightly lit with fluorescent lights, a man behind a desk opened
the envelopes and read through them, making notes on a computer
while doing so. He finished the stack, leaned back, and
stretched. Picking up his coffee cup, he headed for the break
room. On the way back from the coffee machine, he stopped into
one of the many anonymous cubicles in the blank, sterile area.
Knocking lightly on the cubicle's entry, he looked in at the
young lady who sat there.

"I think you'd better take a look at what they've found in Bunker
area Seven Kilo Three Twenty Two. It might be one of the hot
spots the boss was looking for."

She thanked him with a word and started tapping commands into her
computer. She scaned the information that was displayed and then
picked up her phone.

"Take a look at Seven Kilo322. Possible green light."

Without waiting for a response, she hung up the phone and resumed
working at her computer.

* G. A Busy Week
I spent the next week smuggling lab reports, notes, and
schematics out of the lab and into my garage. I didn't have time
to read through everything so I skimmed everything looking for
more clues about the MC Device. Trying to identify the focal
point of each investigation was impossible. I was amazed at the
breadth of the lab's researches and the sheer number of projects
that had run concurrently. Every conceivable area was included:
mind control, time travel, fantastic weapons of destruction, and
various occult topics. The reasons for these inquiries were
unclear but the fact that there had been results was undeniable.
I was able to smuggle several schematics out of the lab in
addition to the prototype MC Device I had retrieved earlier.
Soon, my small apartment was crowded with piles of bound reports
and notebooks and tubes of diagrams and blueprints. The lab
reports often held false trails, some seemed deliberate, that
caused me to study the reports into the wee hours of the morning.

One Saturday morning I lay dazed on my cheap, ratty couch. My
brain was fried from the stress of weeding through the voluminous
library in the lab, getting the material out of the bunker, and
trying to make sense of the techno-occult lab reports. I was
roused by a light knock on the door. Struggling off the couch, I
stumbled through the mess to the door. Opening the door I saw
Lucy standing on the doorstep, nervously shifting from one foot
to the other.

I invited her in, wondering what would cause her to come up this
early in the morning. She had never visited me, either before or
after our incredible afternoon. I had been too busy to
choreograph another session so we had confined our social
interaction to greetings in the parking lot. Playing the host, I
made myself busy offering her a place to sit and a drink. At the
same time I tried to chase the image of her begging Kaitlyn to
make her come from my mind. I was shocked when she mentioned, in
a small voice, her last visit to my apartment.

Until that moment, I had not realized that she could remember
what had happened while she was under my control. It had never
dawned on me that I had left my "victims'" memories intact,
recording the details of their actions.

Other details crystallized. I had briefly wondered if Francine
had been avoiding me at work but I had been too busy to pay
attention. Kaitlyn had left noisily earlier that week. Was this
backlash from the lowered inhibitions? When Lucy spoke frankly
about her embarrassment, I realized that I was holding my breath.
Seeing her, so vulnerable and open, I felt close to her. I
admitted to having been consumed by work the last week but
apologized for not calling or taking the time to talk with her.
I confessed that our passionate encounter had been spur of the
moment but that I hadn't meant to hurt her. All of this was
true, I told myself. I had only omitted what had instigated the
encounter, my MC Device.

Not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable in my messy apartment,
we went on a picnic. Lying on the warm grass, she spoke openly
to me while I told half-truths to hide what I knew. I felt like
an A-1 heel. I had sifted through this woman's most intimate
memories and desires, all so that I could manipulate her into my
bed. I had touched her soul for selfish, base reasons and now I
winced with regret.

The afternoon progressed in sensitive conversation with Lucy.
Her visit ended with another amazing sexual encounter, this one
without the need of "the necklace." She kissed me farewell and
went back to her apartment, every twitch of her hips promising
more delights in what they had now established as a purely
physical, but friendly and honest relationship.

* H. Tidying Up the Details
Realizing now that The Device's victims could still remember what
they had done under its influence, I made an effort to make
amends with Francine. She, like Lucy, was deeply embarrassed by
her actions but was equally ready to try again and reach the
heights of pleasure she had experienced the first time. Once
again I felt hypocritical making platitudes and half-truths while
Francine confessed intimate details about her love life with past
boyfriends and her husband. Freed of the guilt she had
internalized, she stood and moved around her large, imposing
desk. No male could have ever mistaken her intent. We adjourned
to a locked conference room. Things progressed rapidly from that
point, making lunch pass more swiftly than I would have wished.

I spent the afternoon in Brantwell's office in the bunker writing
reports and arranging the lab to make things look like nothing
had been removed. Volumes of reports Brantwell had derided in
his diaries as false leads were catalogued and readied for
shipment to the surface. As I left work that evening, I dropped
my reports into George's box.

George stepped out of his office and asked me to come in and sit
down. George complimented me on all the good work I'd done
recently. I was immediately on guard. George only took the time
to compliment people when he had something unpleasant to say to

George hid his thoughts behind a coffee mug for a second and then
told me that I would receive another assignment tomorrow. Acting
nonchalant, I said that one job was like the next, but that there
was still more to do in the level I was working on. He seemed
relieved that I was taking the news so well, but said that I was
going to survey another area of the same sector. I agreed in a
noncommittal way, still waiting for the bad news to hit. George
made some small talk about sports but the interview was clearly
over. I waited a polite amount of time and then excused myself.

That's when George dropped the other shoe, "Oh by the way, on
Monday make sure you drop by the staging area to get your
partners. They start at 8."

All the way home I stewed over this new development. I knew I
was being set up, but which one partner would be the spy? Or
would they both be spies? The thought that they were just two
new workers never entered my mind. There had been something in
the reports, even my carefully sanitized ones that had sparked
someone's interest. And now I was being saddled with a keeper.
My stomach soured as paranoia flooded my mind.

I pulled into my apartment's driveway. Lucy and her friend Andrea
stood in the driveway chatting. I greeted them distractedly,
walking to the stairs on autopilot. I almost didn't hear Lucy
invite me over for dinner. Remembering my manners I quickly
accepted, asking for just enough time to shower and change.

Twenty minutes later I was at Lucy's door, cleaned and changed.
Lucy explained that she had invited Andrea over for dinner and a
movie but that there was plenty of food for a third person. She
hugged me, commenting that I looked like I could use a decent
meal. Since I was wearing the necklace, more out of habit than
any plan to use it, I saw through her ruse immediately.

Her plan was to stage a threesome with Andrea and me; something I
was quite eager to take part in. Even though I had taken part in
her tryst with Kaitlyn, I was surprised that Lucy's greatest
desire was to explore her lesbian fantasies with her friend while
I watched. Throughout dinner I explored their minds, setting
controls and prompting impulses. I should have felt guilty but I
didn't, rationalizing that I was just helping Lucy get what she

After the dinner dishes were done, I waited for events to take
their course. I didn't have to wait long. As the girls settled
on the couch to watch the movies, I literally watched Lucy's mind
work. Her imagination raced to develop a way to start her
fantasy. I decided to help out with my necklace. First, I
planted suggestions and impulses into Andrea's mind enflaming her
desire to have sex with Lucy. The next part was trickier; I had
to "motivate" both women into letting me watch.

Working slowly, as their concentration was on the movie, I fanned
their passions and lowered their inhibitions. When the movie
ended, I excused myself and went to the bathroom. Waiting an
appropriate amount of time I tip-toed back quietly, stopping in
the doorway to see the girls sitting on the couch facing each

As I spied on them, Lucy reached forward and lightly touched
Andrea's breast. I could see my implanted suggestions at work as
Andrea responded by leaning forward and kissing Lucy full on her
lovely mouth. The intensity of the kiss seemed to break the ice.
Their hands roamed over each other. Andrea took the lead,
undressing Lucy and pressing her back against the arm of the
couch. As the girls warmed to the occasion, I entered the living
room and sat on the chair opposite the couch. My presence
energized them. Andrea started to perform for me, positioning
herself and Lucy so that I could see exactly what they were
doing. Using the filthiest, most graphic terms Andrea described
the texture and taste of Lucy's vagina. Lucy soon succumbed to
the attention Andrea was lavishing on her clitoris and orgasmed
loudly. Still hot with desire, Lucy quickly traded places with
Andrea and returned the favor, licking and kissing her way from
Andrea's lips to her very wet pussy.

I had seen Lucy eat pussy before but sitting in the same room
with her acting like she was a cheap porn star was incredible. I
unbuttoned my pants and freed my swollen cock from its confines.
I lightly stroked my cock, surprising myself when I came. Lucy
worked more slowly than Andrea had, working both her tongue and
fingers in and out of Andrea's cunt. Andrea came more quietly
than had Lucy, grinding her hips against Lucy's fingers.

As Andrea relaxed after her orgasm, she looked at me with a
hungry stare. Lucy looked back over her shoulder from her place
between Andrea's legs, "Your turn big boy."

They quickly stripped my clothes off before turning their
attention to my cock. I lay back enjoying the double blowjob.
The girls got me hard and slick with their mouths before Andrea
threw her leg over my hips and mounted me, Lucy helped by guiding
my turgid cock into her wet hole. We fucked furiously for a few
moments, all that was necessary for me to cum inside her. Lucy,
wanting her turn, positioned herself so that she straddled my
face and sucked my cock while Andrea licked my balls. They got
me hard again with their expert nibbling and sucking. Andrea got
up onto the back of the couch and spread her legs wide, inviting
Lucy to eat her again. Lucy crawled between her friend's legs on
all fours and began to lick Andrea's pussy. Seeing Lucy's ass
wiggling an invitation, I obliged by entering her from behind. A
long slow fuck ensued, ending in all three of us coming for a
third and last time.

* I. The Day After
After cuddling for a while, Andrea, Lucy, and I unstuck our
bodies from each other. The girls went to Lucy's room and I
snuck back upstairs to my apartment. My head throbbed, like a
massive hangover after a night of drinking cheap tequila.
Pitching forward into bed, I fell unconscious.

Dreams came to me; slowly coming into focus like the light of the
sun becomes clearer to a diver ascending from the depths. In my
dreams, I was climbing stone stairs. Drums boomed out the
cadence as I marched out of a torch lit staircase. The crowd
roared in anticipation as I stepped onto a broad, paved
courtyard. My guards forced a corridor through the cheering
throngs of people.

Details became clearer. The people were short and wiry, dark
skinned with straight black hair. I continued across the open
space toward a giant, stepped pyramid. Marching stiffly up the
stairs the smell of incense grew stronger, almost overpowering me
as I reached the top. There, standing behind a tremendous black
altar, stood a man who was undeniably a high priest of some
sanguine religion. The tall, feathered mask that hid his
features was his only raiment. Streaks of drying blood ran down
his thin chest and drew streaks along his skinny thighs. I
hesitated at the sight of the long black dagger in the priest's
hand but was shoved toward the altar from behind. Unable to
fight back, I was dragged on to the altar, strong hands pinning
my wrists and ankles to the smooth, warm surface.

I woke, a damp towel on my head. Struggling to sit up, I saw
Andrea came into the room.

"Are you OK? You don't look so good." There was a note of
concern in her voice.

She gave me something cool to drink and sat on the edge of the
bed beside me. She explained, somewhat embarrassed, how she had
come upstairs after lunch hoping for a little "reprise" of the
previous evening's fun. She had found my door open and me passed
out on the bed. When she found she couldn't wake me, she stayed
and played nurse. It was now Saturday evening, I had slept a
whole day. We had a quiet evening together, Andrea ordering
pizza while I nursed the fading echoes of his monster headache.

On Sunday, my head felt more normal. I sat down with a pot of
coffee and the stack of Brantwell's private diaries. There had
to be some connection between "the necklace" and my vision. Much
more intense than a nightmare, I could still remember the smell
of the blood and incense as I stood in the breeze atop the
pyramid. I still didn't have any idea how my dream fit into the
situation, but there was bound to be a clue somewhere in the

The closest I came to an answer was a circuit diagram of a later
generation MC Device with a "signal amplifier" in addition to the
other circuitry. Apparently the brain couldn't put out enough
power on its own to broadcast control signals to one person for a
long time or more than one for shorter periods, I reasoned. To
give the controller this expanded capability, the researchers had
developed a feedback circuit to amplify the controller's brain
power. In other words, the controller used power derived from
the returning brain waves of his subjects. This way he had to
supply less energy and could, therefore, broadcast for longer
periods of time or to more subjects. Since it was late, I put
the diaries away and decided to spend the next week modifying my
"necklace" before trying it out.

* J. New Partners mean Paranoia
Monday morning I went to meet my new partners. My stomach
fluttered as I walked into the break room, the fear that one or
both were company spies gnawed away at my insides. Our
assignment was to explore the area adjacent to the lab that had
been used as personal living space for researchers and staff. I
remembered some of the more mysterious working accidents in the
complex. People that had asked questions or somehow made waves
had often fallen victim to strange and debilitating accidents.

The rumor around the coffee pot had been that the company was
looking for something in the bunker. The salvage operation was
merely a front for some dark, unspoken mission. Why else would
teams be sent after file rooms and labs rather than the big
transformers and wire closets where the valuable copper and gold
wire could be found? I had always been disliked by Sam and
George, so usually they let me work alone. No witnesses and
dangerous settings meant lots of deniability if the company
wanted to get rid of a troublesome employee. Since I wanted to
be alone anyway, it seemed the perfect arrangement. Now that I
had found another lab I was assigned partners, completely out of
character for George. Normally he would have just sent me to
another area - still a solo. To keep me on the same level,
investigating what was obviously living quarters with two
"newbies," was definitely suspicious.

I stuck my head into the staging area and waved at the

He looked at his list, "Clarke and Forrest."

Two heads perked up in the crowd. The supervisor nodded toward
me, indicating where they should go. I introduced myself as we
walked down the hall. The guy's name was Bert Clarke. He was a
well-built six-footer who didn't look much past high school age.
The girl was Ernestine Forrest, a petite brunette who looked like
she didn't weigh 100 lb. soaking wet. They made some jokes about
Bert and Ernie. It was so cute I wanted to gag. I helped them
draw their equipment and board the bus. Entering the bunker, we
spent the day working through a dorm area, opening closets and
looking into empty drawers. In contrast to the lab that I had
just finished, this place looked like it had been abandoned in an
orderly fashion.

During breaks, I got Bert and Ernie to talk more about
themselves. I found out that both were locals, about my own age,
with stories similar to my own. Without enough money to leave or
prospects if they stayed in town, they had taken jobs with the
company to build a stake before leaving town.

Bert had been working in on a salvage crew in one of the other
bunkers in the complex. He said that it had been a warehouse.
His crew was one of many that had spent the days opening and
cataloging the contents of the crates that were stacked from
floor to ceiling. Some crates were taken away in trucks, other
just moved to the other side of the warehouse.

Ernie had been a forklift operator, a coveted job, before getting
into a disagreement with her supervisor. She wouldn't talk much
about it. I suspected her immediately. Moving from driving a
forklift to spelunking in a steel cave was quite a move down the
company's pecking order. She was either a spy or had pissed
somebody off.

That night, I packed Brantwell's papers into boxes and took them
to Andrea's apartment, hiding them in a crawl space above her
garage. I worried that someone might break into my apartment,
looking for some of the things I had stolen from the bunker.
Security was definitely tighter at work, the guards more vigilant
than before. I wrapped my first necklace in a plastic bag and
hid it in the toilet reservoir. The second I hid in the bottom
of my mailbox. It was the old-fashioned key-lock kind and the
postman used the big mailbox on the street anyway. Once
everything was safely hidden I plotted my next move.

After work, I tinkered with the necklace, adding the feedback
circuit mentioned in Brantwell's papers. I finished late
Saturday afternoon and tried the necklace on. Immediately, I
could feel the increased power of this new design. Without
trying, I could "feel" people's minds. I eavesdropped on Lucy as
she made dinner and Annette as she got ready to go out to a club.
I changed and got ready to go down to Lucy's. Perhaps I could
get a decent meal and some "stress reduction."

To my surprise, my doorbell rang. Looking out the window I saw a
young, cute brunette. I hadn't finished opening the door when
she produced a pamphlet and a laminated card, quickly introducing

"I'm Stephanie and I represent Students International, an
organization... "

She had her sales pitch memorized and there was no getting a word
in edgewise. Letting her talk, I swiftly inserted my controls
into her mind. Instead of manipulating the avatars in her mind,
as I had done with Francine and Lucy, I restricted my tinkering
to her base instincts. Never leaving the basement of her mind, I
separated her conscious thoughts from her sub-conscious impulses.
I found her sexual desires and primitively aroused them. I
smiled smugly as she stumbled in her well rehearsed speech.
Sweat appeared on her upper lip and her nipples pointed through
her blouse. The influences I sent her were crude, appealing to
instincts as old as mankind. This approach lacked all of the
subtlety of my previous experiments but was proving to be much

"Why don't you come inside?" Asked the spider to the fly, I
finished mentally.

Once she was inside, I blocked her inhibitions while freeing her
subconscious desires. Courteously, I invited her to sit but she
stood, momentarily confused by her feelings. Taking her by the
hand I pulled her down to the couch. Sitting beside her, I ran
my fingertips lightly up her thigh.

"This is better, isn't it?"

She answered by leaning back and spreading her legs, an unspoken
invitation to reach higher inside her thighs. Simple and
straight to the point, this method also produced immediate
results. I pushed her basic erogenous urges, making her pant and
squirm like a bitch in heat. Leaving one hand glued to her
crotch, I unbuttoned her blouse and helped myself to her pert
tits. Her breath came in ragged gasps, punctuated by animal

Excited by her reaction, I pushed her miniskirt up to her hips
and pulled her white cotton panties to one side. She invited me
to taste her, guiding me to the target with a hand firmly on the
back of my neck. Leaning forward I accepted, licking her rapidly
moistening cunt. Once we'd made physical contact, events
progressed rapidly. I ate her, she sucked me, then I fucked her
pussy. We climbed over the couch as if it were a jungle gym,
shifting positions to allow me to stick my cock in her from
different angles. She'd come once or twice, but these made her
try harder to reach the pinnacle of release.

I had her bent over the arm of the couch, fucking her savagely.
Taking advantage of a pause in the action, she reached back and
cupped my balls. I thought she was ready for another position
change. The surprise came when she asked me not to come inside

"Fuck my ass," she said spreading her ass cheeks and offering me
her bottom.

Pressing the head of my cock against her tight brown bud, I
slowly worked my thick cock into her tight sphincter. I let her
set the pace, giving her plenty of time to relax her muscles to
let me enter her. We fucked slowly, until I felt myself ready to
come. Pulling out of her, I stood and jacked off, shooting my
load onto her face and breasts. A classic skin movie cum-shot.

She smiled shyly as she gathered her clothes and pamphlets, my
cum still dribbling off her chin. "You sure know how to show a
girl a good time." A quick kiss and she was gone.

Satisfied with my modification, I wrapped the necklace in a
plastic bag, taped the entire thing until I was sure it was
waterproof, and then hid it behind the sewer flush out. My
apartment being on the top floor, I knew it wouldn't be washed
down the pipe and it was the last place a burglar would think to
look. I went to sleep confidant that I now had the tool that
would enable me to leave my lousy job and this boring town

* K. The next day
I finished out the week still leery of Bert and Ernie. But now
that my necklace was working, I felt confidant that my time in
the bunker was coming to an end. Half in celebration and half in
curiosity, I decided to take a trip to the big city and
experiment with the necklace some more. I checked into a
business motel and went out to get something to eat and find some

At a small grill in the club-section of town, I found two
secretaries eating dinner. While they ate I scanned their minds.
Waiting for my chance, I struck up a conversation. It was so
strange, having a conversation with someone and all ready knowing
their answers. We went back to my hotel for drinks.

I decided on the slow subtle method. Based on my experiment with
Stephanie the door to door sales girl, I found that I felt more
satisfied and less tired after manipulating avatars and controls
than I did when I explicitly torqued a girl's sensations. I
started by investigating their desires. Some sage once said,
"Give'em what they want." I used it like my mantra.

I worked slowly, letting them relax, and finally got them back to
my room. I had discovered that Ellen, the smaller blonde, had a
lesbian fantasy. Her friend Mary had one as well but was more
inclined to play a submissive role. I invited them to sit on the
couch and settled myself on the edge of the bed ready to direct
the action.

Rather than try to control their every move like a puppeteer, I
decided to use some of the techniques Brantwell had written
about. I set commands in their minds, alternating between Mary
and Ellen to build their excitement and my control over them. At
the same time I worked on dampening my own sexual responses. I
didn't want to cum too soon or I wouldn't be able to participate
in the three-way I had planned for after the girls get finished
warming each other up.

Ellen started things off by sliding to her knees on the floor.
Pulling aside Mary's panties, she stuck her tongue in Mary's
slit. The physical stimulation on her sensitive clit reinforced
my suggestions, encouraging her to be more aggressive with Ellen.
Hot and ready, Mary didn't give Ellen much chance between her
legs when the larger blonde pulled Ellen onto the couch.

Mary was much more decisive then her friend. She held her friend
down and teased Ellen's nipple by lightly flicking them with her
tongue. Ellen squirmed with pleasure, grasping Mary's head to
try and spare her sensitive nipples but Mary used her size and
strength to push her hands behind her head. After Mary was sure
that Ellen was warmed up, she moved down her firm, tan stomach to
lavish her attention on Ellen's wet snatch.

I wanted to push the pace of their show, so I amplified the
sensations that emanated from Ellen's lust swollen pussy. Ellen
cried out, arching her back to push herself tighter against
Mary's agile tongue. Mary, sensing that her friend was close to
a climax, augmented her tonguing by sliding her fingers in and
out of Ellen.

Ellen's body tensed. Her eyes were screwed shut. She gulped
breath in hoarse groans. The only movement of her lithe form was
the violent trembling of her hips as she clamped down on Mary,
trapping her friend against her snatch as her orgasm came in

Once Ellen's fantasy was realized, she turned to me. Mary
followed her gaze to my thick, rigid cock. Without any need for
further prompting, they climbed off of the couch and came over to
the bed where I sat. Pushing me back, Mary straddled my cock,
Ellen guiding it easily into Mary's ready love canal. I
continued to fight with my own urges, enjoying the pleasurable
feelings of Mary sliding up and down my pole while blocking my
body's urge to release my cum. By denying my own orgasm, I made
myself last longer with these two nymphs.

Ellen made everything harder by running her tongue around my
balls and ass hole while Mary had slid to the top of my cock. It
wasn't long before Mary came and slumped against my chest. I was
still hard, my cock starting to ache with the need for release.

Rolling her off my cock, I commanded Ellen to turn around.
Taking her from behind, I abandoned all pretense of slow, teasing
sex. I released the controls in my own mind, pounding my cock
into Ellen's pussy with frantic desperation to find orgasm. My
balls slapped against her pussy lips, stimulating her at the same
time as I neared my climax. I felt my balls tighten and I drove
my cock hilt deep into the short blonde, pinning her against my
hips as my seed spurted into her hot, wet void. The fury of
their lovemaking left us all spent. I checked their minds,
making sure that everything was back where it should be before
wishing them goodbye.

My mission a success, I spent the next day lounging around my
hotel room reading Brantwell's diaries. I noticed that most of
the diary entries during WWII dealt with the MC device. Once
that had proven to be a success, albeit limited by pre-transistor
technology, Brantwell and his Inner Circle moved on to the next
challenge: Time Travel. In his diaries, Brantwell explained that
the intense dreams experienced by MC Device controllers after
straining themselves were actually "windows" to another time or
dimension, he wasn't sure which. He wrote about trying to
develop a means to control trips through these windows.

While he extolled his successes, his diary entries also become
increasingly critical of the "clerks." Apparently the nameless
suits he worked for wanted the Doctor to continue to develop the
MC Device, which they wanted to use for Cold War purposes, and
stop "wasting time" with Time Travel. In frustration, Brantwell
made vague hints about the preparations that he was making to
leave the clerks behind.

I got home around dinnertime on Sunday. Opening the door I found
my apartment is a shambles. Someone had broken in and trashed
the place. I ran to Lucy's place and called the police. The
police detective, Sgt. Neil, had stayed long after the uniformed
officers had taken their statements. He seemed very interested
in my background, chatting for a while about my plans and

A few hours later, after making statements and signing reports, I
went back upstairs to start cleaning up. Lucy, thoughtful as
ever, brought up some dinner and helped me straighten things up
after the detective finally left. We had the place livable
before too long and went to bed.

I camped out at Lucy's that next week, since the burglars had
been thorough enough to slit and disembowel my mattress. The
next weekend I ran into Bert while shopping for some cheap
furniture to replace what had been smashed during the break-in.
While Bert seemed suitably sympathetic, I couldn't help but
wonder if my new partners had something to do with my recent
burglary, the first in the many years of living in Mountain View.

Still bitter over the break-in, I decided to test Bert and Ernie.
They had seemed friendly enough but I couldn't help shake the
suspicion that they were company agents. The coincidence of our
meeting right after I unearthed the MC Device was too pat. My
only challenge would be to get them to a place where I could use
my necklace.

I didn't want to try anything at work, just in case. Instead, I
arranged a night out at the movies with them. Sitting in the
dark theater, I probed their minds for ulterior motives. It was
almost a disappointment when I found them to be innocent, normal
twenty-somethings. I relaxed once I knew that I could trust my
new partners.

Mulling over some of their fantasies, I reverted to my old horny
self and set about choreographing a three-some with them. I
didn't see much of the rest of the movie, spending my time
setting controls and suggestions in their minds. There wasn't a
lot of work to do, both Bert and Ernie were average, lusty young
people and it wouldn't take a whole lot of encouragement to get
them to hop in the sack.

The movie ended and we left for a few drinks. I ordered some
beers and made chitchat while I waited for an opportunity to try
out my latest experiment. Brantwell had written about using
planted suggestions. These were controls that lay dormant in the
subject's mind until an event or a phrase triggered the desired
response. During the movie I had found that Ernie could be more
easily motivated toward a threesome than Bert, so I planted some
suggestions in her mind, leaving me free to concentrate on Bert.

We stood in the crowded bar while we drank our beers. As we came
to the point when we would either order another round or leave, I
mentioned that I usually watched a certain tv show at this time
but couldn't since my tv had been stolen. The name of the show
was Ernie's trigger phrase and I watched with great interest as
the planted suggestion activated. She seemed to get a far-away
look in her eyes for a moment, as if remembering something from a
long time ago. Then she turned to put her beer bottle on the bar
and brushed her hand against Bert's crotch in passing. From my
vantage point inside Bert's mind, I almost laughed out loud as
his mind raced to try and make sense of what had just happened.
It was pure comedy watching Bert trying to decide whether Ernie's
contact with his crotch had been an accident or a come-on.

Right on cue, Ernie invited us both to her place to watch TV. I
eagerly accepted, anxious to see where this would go since I
couldn't risk taking control of Bert in a public place. Bert
agreed as well, although he was wondering how long I would stay
so that he could get Ernie alone.

We arrived at Ernie's apartment and crashed on her living room
furniture. It was a tiny student apartment, actually a few rooms
of an old house. She gave us a quick tour and I noticed that the
bathroom was unusually big for such a small apartment. Bert made
a joke about her renting out the bathroom since it was bigger
than his apartment. She said that the landlord had fixed up an
old bedroom to make the bathroom, which was why it was as big as
her bedroom.

We went back to the living room and settled down to watch TV.
With the lights off, I was able to concentrate on them and get
them ready for the next step in my plan. Bert and I sat on the
couch, with Ernie on the floor in front of the table. By the
time the first commercial came on, I had gotten Ernie set to show
both Bert and I for the time of our lives. She stood and
stretched like a cat, making sure that both Bert and I got a good
look at her lithe form. She massaged her rear end through her
jeans, claiming that her butt had fallen asleep on the floor.

I excused myself to get a beer, turning up Bert's interest a
notch with a quick surge of power. Ernie went into her bedroom
to "get into something more comfortable." Again, I almost choked
trying not to laugh at the thoughts that ran through Bert's head.
He was still too shy, however, for what I had planned so I
started working on him some more. This was the first time I'd
tried to arouse another man and I was having some problems
finding the right places to put my controls. While most guys are
horny ol' goats, Bert had a streak of modesty in him that, quite
frankly, was getting in my way. Finally, I abandoned the idea of
subtlety and clamped down on his conservative inhibitions.

By the time Ernie came back out of her room in a pair of
sweatpants and a loose old T-shirt, I thought Bert's dick would
rip a hole in his pants. Ernie joined me in the kitchen and
asked if anyone wanted an ice cream sundae. She was pulling
things out of the refrigerator when she spilled something on her
shirt in a very clumsy "accident." Turning to face Bert, she
smiled coyly and yanked her shirt over her head in a single,
smooth motion. His jaw hit the ground as she stood brazenly
displaying her pert breasts.

"I guess I need to wash up." She grabbed his hand and led him
into the bathroom. I followed along, ready to get the show

There was plenty of room for all of us in the bathroom. Ernie
leaned into the tub, turning on the water and giving both us guys
a good look at her ass at the same time. Satisfied with the
water temperature, she stood and hooked her thumbs into the
waistband of her sweat pants.

"I'll scrub your back if you'll scrub mine."

A quick yank and her pants hit the floor. I waited to see what
Bert would do, hoping that my controls would stay in place. I
stood with one hand on my belt, ready to drop my pants and join
the fun, watching the internal struggle in Bert's mind. Years of
Sunday school and clean living battled with raging animal desire
in the corridors of his mind. Finally, only after he made a
conscious decision to take this opportunity and live with his
regrets later, did he start unbuttoning his shirt.

I shucked my clothes in a pile against the door and watched Ernie
help Bert undress. She was on her knees in front of him, undoing
his belt and pulling his jeans down to his ankles. His stiff
member sprang out his briefs and poked her in the cheek. She
giggled and started nibbling at the sensitive seam along the
bottom of his cock. He spread his feet shoulder width apart and
let his head fall backward; his eyes closed tightly in ecstasy.

Before things went much farther, Ernie stood and led Bert into
the shower by his stiff schlong. I followed them, pulling the
curtain around the tub. Ernie had resumed her oral attention to
Bert's thick manhood and I placed my hand gently against her
soft, sensitive mound. Feeling her press her hips against my
hand, I spread he nether lips with my fingers, opening her for my
own turgid cock. I placed its head against her wet hole,
pressing softly but insistently for entrance to her private
delights. I worked my way inside her slowly, relishing the tight
grip her cunt had on my cock. I held her hips, holding her still
so I could work myself inside her. Finally, I had sunk the
length of my shaft inside her.

Relishing the feeling of my balls against her pussy lips, I
quickly checked on Bert. He had completely given himself over to
the passion of the moment. Once again, my controls had opened
the door but native instinct had filled the gap and carried the
matter to its conclusion. Releasing him and Ernie from my
dominance, I stopped distracting myself with having to control
them and let myself enjoy this new type of situation. The three
of us traded positions in the tub, Bert and I taking turns in
each of Ernie's receptive orifices. I left them tired and
spent., my back sore from the awkward positions I'd assumed over
the last hours.

We showed up to work the next day as usual. Bert was a bit
uncomfortable at first but I set him at ease on the bus ride to
the work site. After a little blushing, he and Ernie rode to the
bunker holding each other's hands. I led the way down the stairs
into the lab wondering at the aftermath of a session under the
influence of the MC Device. As it turned out, Bert moved out of
his parent's house and into Ernie's apartment a few weeks later,
so I guess some good comes out of everything.

After work I continued to study Brantwell's diaries and lab
reports. I was careful to keep most of his things in the hiding
place above Andrea's garage, but I relaxed a little after I
realized that the burglars hadn't taken anything of value.
Brantwell's work had progressed on the Time Travel device after
the war, becoming his main project by the early 1950's. He
theorized that the same brainwave energy that allowed his MC
Device to broadcast impulses into another person's mind could
also open small passageways between "worlds." Since the actual
power in the brain wave transmissions was low, he sought the
circumstances that would make actual physical travel possible.

Dr. Brantwell had several groups investigate this problem at the
same time. Some of the same people that had helped him make the
MC Device a success were prominently named in these
investigation. Throughout the 1950s and most of the 60s,
Brantwell's researchers experimented with what they called Time
Travel. After several years of hard, frustrating work, Sylvester
Lavagre's group actually succeeded in sending a person through a
rift to another world. Lavargre's technique involved using a
special crystal.

The crystal's structure made it resonate when it was bombarded
with brain energy waves. To travel between worlds, a crystal was
placed on a person's chest. The traveler lay in the center of a
circle of a group who concentrated on the crystal using the
transmitters from MC Devices. The crystal would resonate energy
in a spherical field and whatever was inside that sphere was sent
through to the other world.

Or so they thought, since they couldn't bring anything back from
the destination. After sending several people through to the
other world, the group of travelers was able to send someone
back. They described the new world as Camelot, a place of
knights and castles. Brantwell was ecstatic.

The diaries of the 1960's dealt with the advances his researchers
made with Time Travel. They succeeded in developing a means to
navigate between worlds and built a machine that only needed one
person to operate it. They built maps of the various worlds they
found, sometimes using one as a staging point for farther
destinations. Along the way, researchers died or were turned
into brain-dead vegetables but Brantwell pressed on, resolved to
perfect the Time Travel device. In 1969, just before Armstrong
landed on the moon, Brantwell wrote that his Time Travel device
was complete. It was the sphere, 6 feet in diameter, of platinum
wire. At the center, mounted on a pedestal, was the drive
console containing the crystal and the means to aim its cargo at
a specific world.

The last entry in Dr. Brantwell's diary was November 1969. It
was "And now to start again, someplace else, free to be myself."
I read that and felt cheated. Cheated like the person that reads
a good book, only to find that someone has removed the last
chapter. I set the diary down. I knew I had to find Brantwell's
Time Travel machine. There were prototypes mentioned in the
diaries. One could take me away from Mountain View. Then I
could start again, free.

I knew the machine wasn't in the lab. I hadn't found anything
that big in any of the rooms. We worked down to the storage
level of Bunker 7 hoping to do some poking around but Sam was put
in charge of my team, so I was watched too closely to do
anything. As I passively watched the company's salvage teams
label and crate everything in the bunker, I wondered how long it
would be before someone realized that Brantwell had fooled them
and they came looking for him.

After work my active love life continued. I went through
different phases, experimenting with sex and mind control at the
same time: 2 girls and a guy, 2 guys and a girl, lots of girls.
The only time I got scared was when I realized I was thinking of
my partners as "subjects" rather than people.

This feeling was especially sharp one morning after having
Francine, Andrea, and Lucy over for a romantic and tasteful
dinner. A nice quiet evening that started out over hors d'oevres
ended in a pile of clothes and naked limbs on the living room
rug. The runaway power of the controls I had placed in their
minds frightened me. Anguish gnawed at my conscience, but I was
unwilling to give up everything that we had together and go back
to being lonely. Over the next few weeks, I slowly removed the
controls I had placed in their minds, satisfied that our special
friendship would last.

One night, Lucy and Andrea brought me dinner and introduced me to
Sue, Andrea's aunt. Although she was in her early forties,
exercise had kept her small, tan frame as sinuous and firm as a
twenty-year old. Her body was one wiry muscle.

Despite all of my earlier conscience pangs, I saw an opportunity
for another sexual experiment that was too good to pass up. I
went to the bathroom to prepare as the girls returned downstairs
to get things ready. Removing the necklace from the sewer pipe
and fastening the clasp behind my neck, I scanned the vicinity
but found only familiar voices in my head.

Lucy and Andrea had brought Sue along because "she needed a man"
and they felt I could amply satisfy her needs. Dinner led to a
mini-orgy. I took special pride in satisfying all three women
and orchestrating Sue's first bi-sexual experience. What pleased
me most, however, was that I could orchestrate such a large group
without straining myself or placing completely restrictive
controls on anyone.

* L. Getting ready to leave
Despairing of finding the Time Travel Machine, I made plans for a
more mundane escape from Mountain View. My plan was to go to my
cousin's hunting cabin for a few weeks and then make my way to
the city, where I could start afresh. I started by collecting
things I will need, buying things with the credit cards I
intended on leaving behind.

One day I came home as usual, but there was something wrong. I
searched my apartment, trying to find what ever it was that
looked out of place. It took me a while to put my finger on it,
but I finally noticed that some of my books had been disturbed.
It shocked me to realize that the first break-in had been a
deliberate warning, to scare me.

This burglary was all business. Someone was looking for
something particular and they were being very careful. Thankful
that I returned all of the diaries to their hiding place, I began
to intensify my escape plans. I packaged the diaries and
schematics in small, waterproof containers, ready to be moved. I
made and reviewed lists of what I'd need to live in the woods for
a few weeks. I also read more about Brantwell's Time Machine,
teasing myself about making "a clean getaway." I'd even selected
a world called Hole-in-the-Wall as my hideout. The Wild West had
always appealed to me and, if I could only find the Time Machine,
it was within my grasp.

I was getting caught up in my plans to leave. One night,
everything stopped. While I had been at a gun show one Saturday
morning, Lucy surprised a burglar in my apartment. I found her
body in my living room, a small bullet wound behind her left ear.

I called 911 immediately. The police came and questioned
everyone. I sat in a squad car, numb and blaming myself for
involving her in a situation I couldn't control. After the
police left, I sat in my living room. Her death had accelerated
my plans, I was going to leave that night, before anyone else
could get hurt. I knew that the burglaries were professional,
high school kids don't use silenced 9mm's and that's what the
sergeant told me was the probable weapon.

Not wanting to be next, I called Bert and asked for a favor.
Bert's uncle ran the local army surplus store which had most of
the items on my list. I quietly offered Bert a few hundred
dollars in cash to let me have a "private shopping spree" in his
uncle's store. Bert, a true friend, wanted to help but thought
that I might be trying to run away from my grief over Lucy's
death. He agreed to help and talked me into stopping by Andrea's
on the way to the store.

When we got there, I found that Bert had assembled the whole gang
to show their support. Andrea, Sue, and Ernie all tried to
console me, offering tea and sympathy for my loss. I was touched
and ashamed that I had once used mind control on these people. I
told them the story of the lab, focusing on the time machine and
barely mentioning the other devices. Looking at their faces I
could tell they didn't really believe me, but I pushed on and
told them my plans to hide in my cousin's cabin while I studied
the diaries.

My theory was that Brantwell traveled from whatever world he was
on to Mountain View, discovered that I had found his lab, and
then tried to stop me. Once I could find the machine, I could
find Brantwell and discover who killed Lucy. The rest was pure
revenge. None of it would have stood up to close scrutiny.
Brantwell would be over ninety by now. The others were now
completely skeptical of my sanity. All except Ernie.

She said that, based on my description if the time machine, she
might know where it was hidden. She had moved a lot of crates
around the bunker complex warehouses as a forklift driver and she
remembered some large cubes in the back of one level. The large
packing crates had been too big and heavy to lift. At the time,
she'd been told to let them be. I guess that the company was
searching for the MC Device, something small. I still don't know
whether my friends decided to look in the warehouse to humor me
or because they believed me. I'm not sure it mattered.

* The Time Machine
* A. Making the trip
With the prospect of finding a real time travel machine close at
hand, we discussed what we would do with the machine. I told
them what I knew about Brantwell's travels, how I thought the
machine worked, and where we could go. Different motives for
traveling surfaced immediately. Andrea and Sue wanted to go in
hopes of finding out more about who killed Lucy. Bert and Ernie
were interested because time travel sounded more interesting than
their routine lives.

I was all for going to the warehouse immediately and looking for
the Machine, but cooler heads prevailed. Bert reminded me about
the guards. Sue pointed that we didn't have any appropriate
clothing for the Wild West. The clothes slowed me down more than
the guards. The diaries had notes about the importance of
blending in with the local culture and the lethal consequences if
this went wrong.

It took us almost a week to get everything together. Andrea
found costumes from an amateur theater group and some friends
that were re-enactors. Bert collected the camping gear, Ernie
got the food, and Sue brought two pistols. During the week I
scouted around for a likely place to break in to Victory Station.

Breaking in was no easy matter. Victory Station is surrounded by
a double chain row of chain link fences, both topped with razor
wire, fifteen feet a part. Vehicle patrols rode around the
perimeter and inspected sites at random intervals. All designed
to keep people out. The only way to get in was to never leave.
Our plan was to show up to work with our stuff on Friday, visit
Hole-in-the-Wall over the weekend, and show up Monday morning
ready to punch the clock.

Since we couldn't leave our cars in the parking lot over the
weekend, we all rode the bus on Friday. It was pouring rain,
which was good for us. The guards were less likely to inspect
the shuttle buses and everyone was walking around covered by
umbrellas and coats. Our gym bags were full of clothes and gear.
Sue and Andrea, armed with fake IDs, kept their heads buried in
their coats. We held our breath going through the gate. No
search, so far so good. Getting to the admin area, we signed in
and got on a shuttle bus.

Ernie led us off the bus and into the warehouse bunker she
thought the Time Machine was in. Bert took Sue and Andrea to
hide in one of the tunnels as Ernie and I located the crate. It
was still were Ernie last saw it, sitting alone and neglected in
the midst of a scattering of crates and boxes. We opened one
side and I crawled in. Quickly Ernie resealed the crate and left
me to inspect the Machine while she hid with the others.

I sat in the dark for a moment, feeling the cold metal cage
against my forehead. I laboriously crawled around the bottom of
the crate, feeling above my head for the door catch. Luckily I
was close and sprang the hinge, pushing the door inward.
Standing up in the door of the Time Machine, I turned on my
flashlight and took my first look at Brantwell's most miraculous
invention. The Time Machine looked like a wire mesh sphere with
a silver metal birdbath in the middle.

Using the project files, I studied the birdbath-looking console.
Using the necklace I probed the crystal and was shocked to see a
blue glow emanate from the console. Quickly, I stopped, I needed
to wait for the others and save my strength. I set the dials to
the settings that would take us to Hole-in-the-Wall, turned off
my light, and got some sleep.

I was in the middle of my second nap when the sound of Bert and
Sue removing the top of the crate woke me up. Shining the
flashlight at Bert, he cheerfully explained that it was less
likely that anyone would notice the top was un-nailed than if we
removed a side. His enthusiasm for adventure was contagious and
the rest of the group crawled into the Time Machine ready to go
and in good spirits. It was more like taking a road trip to
another city than a plunge into the unknown to another world.

As everyone put their gym bags under the seat, I told them to
relax and touch the center column. The metal felt cold under
their fingertips. I flipped the switch and everyone felt a
tingling sensation traveling up their arms. The tingling
enveloped us bringing with it a feeling of disorientation and
dizziness. Ernie and Andrea fainted, slumping against the
central pedestal. I concentrated harder, willing the blue glow
to intensify and expand. Bert and Sue struggled to keep their
feet as they fought the urge to black out. My eyes lost focus.
The world went dark.

* Welcome to Fry, Arizona Territory
We awoke to find ourselves in a rocky desert. The machine had
landed, if that is the right term, against a large rock and
tipped sideways. I helped pull the others from the machine and
climbed to the mouth of the canyon to see where we were.

From the canyon, I looked down on a small village. We had done
it. I could tell that this was Hole-in-the-Wall.

I turned to the group and said, "This is it. That town must be
Fry. We've done it!"

We pulled our costumes out of our 20th century gym bags and got
ready to join the Wild West. It was then that I remembered what
we'd forgotten. Water. We must either go into town for water or
go straight back to our own time.

We looked as clueless as we felt. I just hoped no one had the
sense to ask us what 5 people were doing out in the desert and
why we were on foot. I walked along, frantically trying to come
up with a cover story, approaching the small clump of buildings
the Brantwell diaries had called Fry. If we had done everything
correctly, we were in a parallel world that approximated mid-
1800s Arizona. The only problem I had was that Brantwell had
also wrote that time moved here at the same pace as it had done
in our home world. This meant that everything Brantwell and his
researchers knew about this world was thirty years old.

I told everyone to keep their eyes open and stick together. We
had only planned this as a fact finding mission, the real search
would begin once we knew a little more about the mechanics of
Time Travel. We wandered toward the town, as inconspicuous as
five people can be. Entering the town from the south, we had
almost reached the middle of town when three drunken cowboys
tumbled out of a building and into the street. Two of them
shared a bottle while the third pulled his pistol from its
holster and started shooting at a tethered dog.

Before I could stop her, Sue rushed across the street and hit the
drunken shooter. Suddenly realizing that they weren't alone in
the street, the other two cowboys drew their pistols and pointed
them at Sue. The cowboy Sue hit got back to his feet and
unsteadily advanced on the rest of the group. It was a classic
Mexican standoff. There were more of us but they had guns. We
all froze in the middle of the street waiting for someone to
blink. Or shoot. Or die.

Just when the cowboys were concentrating on us, Sue disabled one
of her captors with a quick kick and yelled for us to run. Bert
and Ernie turned and ran back the way we came. I saw them dodge
into a barn as I took off running. To my left, Andrea ducked
into the back of a nearby building. The cowboys watched us
scatter with frustration as they had their hands full wrestling
with Sue.

I ran across the street into the hotel. Looking around the
hotel, I desperately searched for a hiding place. I spotted a
door toward the back of the lobby and moved quickly towards it.
Trying to look like I belonged there, I opened the door and
stepped inside.

Turning and slumping against the door frame, I suddenly realized
I wasn't alone in the room. The other person was a tan, green-
eyed brunette. She was one of the most beautiful women I have
ever seen. As she stepped from the inner room, she saw me and
froze. Watching her I realized that she must have heard me enter
and been expecting someone else. Who ever that was, he was one
lucky guy because she was stark naked.

"Wha da hell jew want?" Her heavy Mexican accent made it hard for
me to understand her, but it forced me to concentrate on
something other than her marvelous tits. She reached back inside
to the other room.

I stammered an apology and tried to leave. I turned to open the
door but froze at the metallic sound of her cocking a pistol. I
turned back toward her slowly, making sure to keep my hands
visible and away from my body. She stood in the other doorway
unsuccessfully trying to cover herself with one hand, the other
being occupied with pointing a large revolver at my chest.

Thinking quickly, I remembered that I was wearing the necklace.
My biggest problem was buying enough time to use it. I held my
hands out away from his body, signaling my peaceful intentions.
At the same time, I slid inside her mind and started activating
her basic sexual instincts. I didn't have time for romantic
seduction so I resolved to use primal lust instead.

I slowly moved across the room, intensifying the sensations of
desire in her mind. My thoughts made her think that she wanted
me more than any other man she'd ever known. I hammered the
erotic centers of her mind. She would have died right there if I
had told her she couldn't have my cock.

I saw her nipples swell and her breath start to come more
raggedly, but the huge black muzzle never wavered from my chest.
I continued to advance toward her. Confused, she walked backward
into the bedroom. I knew that everything in her mind was telling
her to do something: scream for help, shoot me, anything.
Instead her body was screaming with heat, the need to mate with
me like an animal.

She backed into a chair and fell into it. The pistol lay loosely
in her hand on the chair arm. I knelt in front her and parted
her thighs. The pistol almost touched my forehead but one look
at her lust swollen labia told me she wouldn't use it. I leaned
forward and licked her pussy like my life depended on it,
stopping only when she tugged me from her crotch by my hair and
told me to fuck her.

Our coupling was fierce. I had opened a door that had been
closed in this woman's mind, one that she had strained against
for years. Casting down the walls of Victorian propriety, my
newfound lover was a sexual dynamo. The atmosphere of the moment
spurred me like a powerful aphrodisiac. I don't know what turned
me on more: the power I had over her, her incredible physical
beauty, or the fact that I didn't even know her name. We fucked
on every piece of furniture in that hotel room, ending up in the
middle of the room's big feather bed sweaty from our exertions.

Afterwards, as we lay in each other's arms catching our breath,
she introduced herself as Senora Inez Plum, wife of the hotel
owner. He had been gone for several weeks on business and she
had wanted to surprise him on his return. The heat of the moment
had passed. Her shyness started to return and I busied myself at
the wash basin as she jumped into a shift.

Once dressed, she seemed more comfortable. Inez gave me some of
her husband's old clothes, chatting about town gossip and current
events. Listening to her talk, I looked around the room.
Picking up the scattered newspaper from the floor I felt a silent
thrill when I saw it was dated May 12, 1862. Whatever
distraction I had from the discovery evaporated when Inez
mentioned the impending arrival of French soldiers to Fry. Since
she had already confirmed what I knew from Brantwell's diaries, I
tried to remember enough high school history to recall if French
soldiers had ever been in the Arizona Territory. That's when I
realized that there was something that I had expected that she
had never mentioned, the Civil War.

* * * * *

As Jack ran for the hotel, Andrea had dove for cover in a nearby
house. She stood in the narrow hallway when she heard someone
call to her. When Andrea didn't answer, a blonde head poked out
of a nearby door.

"Come on girl, shake a leg." The blonde grabbed Andrea's arm and
dragged her into the room.

Talking nonstop, the blonde girl introduced herself as Peaches
and explained that she was one of the Sheriff's "regular girls".
She had been expecting a new girl on the weekly stage but since
Andrea seemed to have shown up early, so much the better.
Peaches threw Andrea some "decent" clothes to wear, continuing
her narrative about what the Sheriff liked to watch. His tastes
boiled down to dirty talking lesbians licking and fingering each
other. Peaches instructed Andrea on what they needed to do to
make the performance go well.

Andrea tried to interrupt several times, each time getting cut
off by Peaches' admonitions. "Not now girl, we're going to be

The only interruption to Peaches' instructions was a slight pause
as she caught sight of Andrea's shaven pussy.

Dressed like Wild West showgirls, the girls went through a
connecting door into a larger room. Some gas lamps, effectively
disguising their audience, lit a chaise lounge. A gravely voice
told them to "get on with it." Peaches posed Andrea in front of
the lounge and started to undress her from behind, commenting
lewdly on Andrea's figure and what Peaches had planned for the
audience's benefit. Her narrative was thoroughly pornographic
and complimented what her hands did to Andrea. Once most of
Andrea's clothes lay on the floor, Peaches laid Andrea on the
lounge and they crawled all over each other, licking and sucking
with abandon.

Peaches tongue was as well schooled as her stage instincts. She
maneuvered Andrea around the chaise, positioning everything so
the hidden audience could see. Andrea leaned back and allowed
herself to enjoy Peaches' oral stimulation. The showgirl had
brought her close to climax several times but always stopped
short of letting her orgasm. Ready for the finale, Peaches
pulled a dildo from underneath the chaise and fucked Andrea with

They could hear their observer start to stir. A tentative knock
on the door interrupted and spoilt the moment. A voice at the
door urged the Sheriff to come to the jail quickly. He left in a
rush, the sound of several coins thudding on the rug punctuating
the closing door. Peaches and Andrea gathered their clothing and
retired to the other room. Frustrated from not reaching climax
and embarrassed at having performed center stage in a sex show,
Andrea wondered how she was going to rejoin the group and get
back home.

* * * * *

Across town, Bert and Ernie had taken refuge in a barn. Bert
pushed Ernie up into the hayloft and tried to climb up after her.

A reedy voice came from behind him, "Ya'll stay still. Fetch tha
other'n down from there, I want to see ya both."

Bert raised his hands and slowly turned around. In the doorway
was a thin, teen-age boy with an old double barrel shotgun.
Keeping one eye on Ernie as she climbed out of the loft, he
accused Bert of being part of the "Sheriff's gang". Motioning
with the shotgun, he made Bert kneel and then tied him to one of
the posts.

Ernie thought quickly, thinking the boy might be getting ready to
shoot Bert. Deciding to divert the boy's attention and let Bert
work free from his bonds, she cleared her throat. The boy looked
up from the knots binding Bert, seemingly noticing that she was a
female for the first time.

"We can straighten this out. We just need to talk a bit." Ernie
exaggerated the sway of her hips as she closed the distance
between herself and the boy.

She cocked her head to one side in her best coquettish pose.
Seeing that he was listening, Ernie started talking about how she
and Bert were new in town, all the while unbuttoning her dress.
Shrugging the dress off her sholders, she moved closer to him.
He reacted just like any normal teenage boy and stared at her
pert nipples showing through her thin shift.

Soon her dress lay in a puddle around her ankles. When the boy
didn't move, she stepped out of the dress and moved toward him.
The boy remained motionless, as still as a statue except for the
growing bulge in his shorts.

Finally Ernie stood in front of him completely naked, "See, I
told you I was unarmed."

Drawing his attention to the bulge in his pants she knelt in
front of him and unbuttoned his pants. Fishing his turgid cock
from inside the old fashioned union suit, she seduced him there
on the barn floor, stopping only after he shot his load inside
her. They were lying on the floor when Bert, who had freed
himself during the boy's deflowering, appeared at her side. Bert
helped Ernie up from the barn floor. They looked up to see the
still undressed boy pick up his shotgun and point it at them.
Bert laughed and showed the boy the shotgun loads he removed from
the gun while the boy was concentrating on Ernie.

With the threat of the shotgun removed, the trio sat down and
introduced themselves. The boy told them that his name was
August Witbier and that his parents had been taking to jail by
the Sheriff because they knew something that the Sheriff didn't
want them telling the French. Ernie became very interested in
this and asked many questions about Augie's father's job as a
land surveyor for the Territory. Augie told them that the
Sheriff was a crook and that the French were coming to take over
the town since the Yankees had left to go east.

* * * * *

While all of this is going on, Sue was a guest of the local jail.
She had expected to be raped, but was surprised when her captors
throw her into a cell and then left her alone. A white couple,
dressed in thin cotton pajamas, and an old Indian squatting on a
threadbare blanket occupied the other two cells in the small
adobe jail. After a few moments one of her captors returned with
a well-dressed, middle age man. From the silver star he has
pinned to his vest, Sue guessed that he was the Sheriff.

She told the Sheriff that she had been trying to stop the drunken
cowboys from shooting the dog and that everything was all an
innocent mistake. He sat behind a desk, smiled, and invited her
to step from the cell. She stepped in front of his desk,
expecting to continue their conversation, when a cowboy grabbed
her from behind. Using some of the self-defense classes she had
taken she threw him off, but couldn't evade the other two who
pinned her arms behind her. Without looking at the cowboy Sue
had kicked in the groin, the Sheriff ordered his men to take Sue
"to the cross."

The cowboys dragged Sue, kicking and screaming, into a back room.
She saw what looked like a large wooden "I" propped against the
wall. The men fastened shackles to her wrists and ankles,
forcing her spread-eagle on the wooden frame.

Then the one she kicked pulled a large Bowie knife from its
sheath. "The boss wants to see the goods, sweet thing."

His foul, whiskey-laden breath almost made Sue gag, but she was
determined not to show them her fear. The cowboy expertly cut
her clothes off, making lewd observations about her tan lines and
underwear. He was most appreciative of her shaved mound.

As he finished, one of his partners called to the Sheriff, "She's

The Sheriff entered leading the woman from the other cell by a
leash. She was completely naked, wearing only a heavy leather
collar around her neck and leather shackles on her wrist. The
Sheriff tugged her to her knees in front of Sue. Holding her
head up by her chin, he made the woman, whom he called Maggie,
describe the sex acts she would perform on Sue for the Sheriff's

Satisfied, the Sheriff let go of her and stepped back to observe.
Maggie rose from her crouch and began to kiss and lick Sue. Her
foreplay was frantic because if she hesitated, the Sheriff struck
her with a leather riding whip. Both the kissing and the
whipping seemed to excite her and soon Maggie was rubbing her
crotch against Sue's legs. The Sheriff stepped behind Maggie as
she ate Sue's pussy and unbuttoned his pants. He locked eyes
with Sue as he put his cock into Maggie's pussy. He fucked her
savagely, coming quickly. Wiping his cock with a towel, he told
Sue that he'd be back for her later and dragged Maggie from the
room by her leash.

* * * * *

* Gathering the troops
Throughout the afternoon I got as much information and local
color as I could from Inez Plum. Once I knew a little more about
what was going on, my next concern was to find all of the other
members of the group. Once we were back together, all we had to
do was get Sue out of jail and go home. As unrealistically
optimistic as that plan was, I was most worried about Sue. Civil
rights wasn't a burning cause in the 1860s and I had visions of
prison rape scenes in my head as I stepped out of Inez's room,
intending to make a tour of the town.

Reaching the hotel lobby, I saw Andrea walk in from the street.
We sat down at a table in the saloon and began to talk about our
adventures. She told me what she knew about the Sheriff,
especially his voyeuristic tastes, and her new friend Peaches.
Without knowing where Bert and Ernie were, I decided to take Inez
with for a walk around town.

It was late afternoon and many of the town's residents were
beginning to promenade in the street, socializing with each
other. As we passed the scene of the abortive dog-shooting, I
surveyed the area. Discovering that Inez's husband owned the
bordello the cowboys had come out of, I asked Inez about the
small barn close by. She shook her head sadly and told me the
gossip about the Witbiers. She said that the Sheriff felt that
Mr. Witbier was spying for the Yankees, but everyone in town knew
that that was only an excuse since the Sheriff obviously lusted
after Margaret Witbier. She lowered her voice, crossed herself,
and told me that she had heard the Margaret was now a sex slave
in the jail, servicing the Sheriff and his men.

"I pray for her." That was all Inez would say about Mrs.
Witbier's jail sentence as we returned to the hotel.

While Inez was busy overseeing dinner preparations in the hotel,
Andrea and I strolled around the edge of town, surreptitiously
working our way toward the Witbier's barn. Sneaking inside, we
were greeted with the business end of Augie Witbier's shotgun. I
introduced myself and was about to try and disarm the boy when
Bert jumped down from the hayloft. We congratulated ourselves on
surviving this far, but wondered what to do about Sue.

Andrea came up with the plan. She and Peaches would lure the
three guards into the saloon after dinner. While the guards were
distracted, Bert, Ernie, and I would break into the jail and free
the Witbiers and Sue. The only unanswered question was where the
Sheriff would be, but Inez had assured me that he always took his
meals in the hotel. Although Augie wanted to go into the jail
shooting, I didn't want any gunplay. I told Bert and Ernie to
keep lookout while I went into the jail, unlocked the cells, and
got the prisoners out. He didn't tell them about my plans to use
my necklace rather than the 9mm that I carried.

We heard the hotel's dinner bell ring right on schedule and put
the plan into motion. Andrea and Peaches got the guards to come
to the saloon for drinks. I positioned Augie on the hotel
balcony where he could watch the front of the jail. Bert and
Ernie watched the street that ran behind the jail. Once the
guards had left, I calmly opened the jail's door and walked in.

The men in the cells sat quietly. The white man apparently
sobbing on his cot. The Indian stared at me impassively. I heard
noises from the back room and stealthily crossed the room.
Looking in through the doorway, I saw the top of a man's head
over the back of a large leather wingback chair. The Sheriff was
enjoying a show before dinner.

The Sheriff sat in his leather chair, instructing Maggie on how
to prepare Sue for the evening's entertainment. As the Sheriff
talked, I entered his mind. Rather than exciting him, I worked
in the basement of his mind to put him to sleep while he watched
Maggie eat Sue. The whiskey he'd been drinking made my task
easier and soon he was snoring in the chair. I stepped into the
room and took the shackle keys from his watch chain. I unlocked
Sue, told her to bring Maggie, and then returned to the outer
room to unlock the cells.

I had just completed this task when I heard the thunderclap of a
pistol shot from the back room. Running into the room, I saw a
naked Maggie Witbier standing over the Sheriff with his pistol in
her hand. The back of his head was missing and the wall behind
his chair covered in blood and brains. Her eyes were vacant and
I was afraid of what she might do next. Sue, who had been
recovering her wallet and jewelry from the cupboard, swiftly came
to Maggie's side and took the pistol from the woman's unresisting
hand. Draping her in a blanket, Sue and I led the trio of
prisoners to the appointed meeting place, the town's General

The street seemed quiet enough, reasonable since the Sheriff's
cronies often paraded around shooting their firearms into the
air, and the rest of the group joined them in a few moments.
Bert looked in awe at Andrea. He reported that he had watched
Andrea and Peaches "entertain" the Sheriff's men. He said that
the cowboys were still in the hotel bar but wasn't sure how long
they'd stay. I was shocked that Andrea, quiet, church-going,
nurse from a conservative town would have planned and been the
center attraction in a four-way orgy. Andrea blushed and told me
not to worry about the cowboys since Peaches was still there "to
keep them occupied."

Moving on to bigger problems, I told everyone that we needed to
pack for a long trip. I told the Witbiers that they needed to
leave town as soon as possible, now that the Sheriff was dead.
Andrea, reverting from town slut to trained nurse, took me aside.

"Listen Jack, Maggie Witbier is in shock. We can't leave her
alone. And look at her husband." George Witbier stared blankly
at the store's stove. "He's no pillar of strength right now. We
need to take them with us." Sue chimed in, reminding me that we
needed to for clues that would point us at Lucy's killers.

* Looking for Clues
As the others rushed around, looting the General Store for items
they would need, I sat George Witbier in a quiet corner.

"George. Listen to me George." He seemed to come back to
reality slightly. "We've got to find a hiding place. They're
going to come looking for us George. George do you hear me?"

I got no where. He had surrendered to the despair. Looking
around, I started to think about how to get the group back to the
arroyo where we'd hidden the Time Machine. I jumped as I felt a
hand on my shoulder. The Indian, forgotten until just then, was
standing behind me. Looking me in the eye, he offered to hide us
in the canyons behind the town.

By late evening the small town was crawling with Sheriff's
henchman. Houses were invaded and storage areas ransacked by
groups of torch-bearing cowboys. I kept watch through the
store's front windows. George sat with me, more so I could keep
an eye on him. Their activity was very loud and public, but
George Witbier remarked that John Foster, the Sheriff's chief
deputy, was just trying to "look good for his bosses" in hopes of
taking the Sheriff's place. Inside the store, everyone scurried
around getting things together. We borrowed clothes from the
Witbiers or Inez Plum.

Before we left, Sue wanted to explore the Sheriff's house.
Around midnight, Sue, dressed in some of Maggie Witbier's old
clothes, decided to burglarize the Sheriff's house. Taking the
keys that I had found on the Sheriff's watch chain, she made her
way behind buildings to a small frame house next to the town

Using a knife, she pushed the latch open on a window and crawled
into the house. She found herself in the Sheriff's bedroom. It
had already been ransacked, clothes were strewn across the floor
and the mattress had been slashed, its ticking spread on the
floor. Stepping in to the adjoining room, she saw that his
library had been given the same treatment.

The only item left untouched was the safe in the corner behind
the desk. Still looking around, Sue saw pictures of the Sheriff
and people she took to be business associates. Framed in a
typical Victorian gilt frame, one picture was remarkable. It
showed the Sheriff being presented with a large broadsword by a
slim, mustachioed man. Hanging directly above it was a
broadsword, complete with jeweled hilt and scabbard. Sue
continued her search, but the files she found were routine,
dealing only with local matters.

Finally, she sat behind the large wooden desk, untouched mainly
due to its size, and inspected the drawers. As she expected,
they had also been ransacked. Looking around she spied the desk
blotter, tossed into the corner. Just as she had done in the
past with people's computer passwords, she looked in the corners
for the safe combination. Voila! It was right where she had
expected it to be.

Using the combination she quickly opened the safe and checked its
contents. Two books were inside: one a common ledger book, the
other a small leather bound diary. Sitting behind the books was
a jewelry case. The jewelry case contained an amulet and a
signet ring.

The sound of a door slamming open interrupted her burglary. She
scooped up the books and case into a small satchel and shut the
safe door, dashing for the bedroom to make her escape. Before
she could crawl back out the window, she heard someone coming
toward the bedroom door. She froze, hiding in the armoire beside
the window.

"Evie!...Evie show yourself. Bitch!" The voice belonged to the
cowboy she had kicked in the jail. She quietly closed the
armoire door, hoping that he wouldn't come into the bedroom.

The bedroom door burst open, "Evie, where you hiding? When I
find you I'll horse whip your skinny ass!"

Not finding Evie, the cowboy turned and kicked open the door
across the hall. From the sounds Sue heard, Evie had been hiding
in there. By cracking the armoire door slightly, Sue could see
across the hall into the room where they were. The cowboy was
interrogating a skinny, red haired woman, apparently Evie,
slapping her forcefully when her answers were not what he
expected. Sue felt herself start to get angry. Grabbing the
girl by the hair, the cowboy held her on her knees and wrenched
her head back, exposing her slim white throat. He pulled out his
Bowie knife, the same one he had used to cut Sue's clothes off in
the jail, and traced it across her throat.

"Nothin's changed, Evie. You're still a slave. The only
difference is that I'm the watcher now."

Evie shivered. The cowboy ran his knife along her shoulders,
cutting her dress' straps. Her thin shift puddled on the floor
leaving her naked from the knees up.

"Now you're going to take care of me the same way you took care
of him. Aren't you?"

He emphasized his words by tracing his knife's tip under her
breast, a thin red line became visible.

His words became a snarl. "Who's in charge now, Evie?"

Her voice was thin and breathless. "You are Mr. Foster."

"That's right, girl."

He stuck his knife into the door frame above her head. Still
holding her by the hair with one hand, Foster unbuckled his pants
and fished his stiff cock from inside his long johns.

"Now do what you do best and I'll only give you ten lashes for

Evie immediately gave Foster an expert blowjob, making numerous
explicit comments about the size of his member. Apparently
satisfied, Foster dragged Evie by the hair across the hall and
onto the bed. Sue, hiding only a few feet away, held her breath
and hoped that the armoire didn't creak.

Roughly slapping Evie's legs apart, Foster took her on the
squeaky bed, finally coming inside her with a shout. Satisfied
for the moment, Foster pulled his shrinking prick from the girl
and once again dragged her by the hair into the hallway. Sue
heard him say something about food and then pots rattling.
Praying that the door hinges didn't squeak, Sue left the armoire
and crawled back out of the house.

Returning to the General Store, she was just in time to join us
in following the old Indian to this hiding place in the canyon.
I asked if she had found anything but Sue said she'd have to show
me when we had more time.

* In the Hunting Cabin
We left town immediately. After a few hours of walking in the
dark, we arrived at the hunting camp led by the old Indian. The
camp was in a small, sheltered fissure of a canyon. During the
short trip to the camp, Maggie had become more withdrawn,
refusing to let anyone but the old Indian touch her. Once at the
camp, George and the old Indian set up camp. I investigated the
cave, finding a small cell in the back that the Indian had used
as a sweat bath. I got the idea to cure Maggie with some mumbo-
jumbo, the sweat bath, and my necklace.

With the Indian's help, I set up the bath and invited Andrea and
the Witbiers inside. Using the necklace I relaxed them while
fueling Andrea's natural lust. I started by making George talk
about what was bothering him. He was mad that Maggie wouldn't
tell him about what the Sheriff was doing to her. I then made
Maggie tell her side. She told how she hated the Sheriff for
what he did to her, but how, at the same time, it excited her in
new ways. She said she still loved her husband but no longer
felt worthy of him. She described the acts that made her feel
"dirty" or "bad." I invited her to do these to George and
Andrea, joining in when everything was in full swing. After we
had finished, we dried off and went into the main cavern to eat.

Over dinner we compared notes. I was excited that we had
concrete proof that we were in a separate dimension. George's
mind had vivid memories of the South's great victory at Bull Run,
followed by their capture of Washington and President Lincoln.
England and France had become CSA allies, while Germany and
Russia signed treaties with the USA. With both CSA and USA
weakened from their disrupted economies, France and Mexico
reclaimed vast territory in the Southwest.

After dinner, Sue went to the back of the chamber with me to sit
down and discuss what she found at the Sheriff's house. She
showed me the books and pictures she had stolen from the
Sheriff's safe. I recognized a man in one of the pictures as
Detective Neil. The ledger book recorded amounts of silver
bullion the Sheriff gave to Michael, presumably Detective Neil,
and the number of suspects turned over for interrogation. The
entries were regular, spaced 1 week apart. The diary included
notes on travels to other dimensions made by the Sheriff before
being assigned to this post.

His duties in Fry included watching for strangers that passed
through the gate and accounting for the bullion mined in the
illegal silver mine. Each week, he would deliver the box of
bullion to Michael, who was the steward for "Lord Peter." What
really caught my interest was the matrix of origins, coordinates,
and destinations for the Sheriff's Time Machine. The Sheriff had
been a meticulous traveler, recording how to get there but also
places to stay, how to dress, and where to get equipment in each
world. All that remained for me was to find which location hid
Peter and then find Lucy's killers.

That night I figured that they have only one or two days before
Michael came to check on the Sheriff. Everyone took turns at a
lookout post that guarded the road from the arroyo to the town.
My only worry was that the French would arrive and complicate

One afternoon, while on lookout with Sue, she asked me about the
look of concentration I had when I put the Sheriff to sleep. She
wondered if I had some kind of telepathic power. I flinched, her
guesses coming too close to the truth. Trying to make light of
her comment, I told her that it was all a coincidence. The
sheriff had been drunk and just passed out. Sue didn't buy it
and I knew it.

* Michael Arrives
Three days after we arrived in Fry, Andrea and Augie noticed a
man who matched Michael's description. The town was in a flurry
of activity. People were stocking up on basics, getting ready
for the impending arrival of the French. Planning quickly, we
decided to capture him as he met with John Foster. Sue showed me
how to get into the Sheriff's bedroom.

We hid in the same armoire Sue had used earlier and waited for
our prey. Soon after we settled into our hiding place, we heard
Foster and another man walking through the house. Foster's tone
was deferential, almost defensive, as he tried to answer the
other man's questions. As they searched the Sheriff's study,
Foster called the othe rman "Lord Michael." My heart stopped.
If Detective Neil saw us, we'd be dead. Fortunately, other
events took over.

Looking around, Michael found that the safe was empty and
concluded that Foster had done something with the silver and the
amulet. He accused Foster of being careless, losing the
"rutters," as he called them. Foster shrank against the wall,
his eyes wide with fear. Stepping to the middle of the room,
Michael turned and faced Foster.

"Lord Peter will be most displeased to hear that you cared more
for the quim of some slut than for his rightful tribute." His
tone had all the power of a death sentence.

I was amazed when Michael, who wore an older, head mounted MC
device, narrowed his eyes and concentrated on Foster. Foster
grabbed his head and, as his eyes rolled back into their sockets,
he crumbled to the floor. This showed me a new side of the
device, the ability to harm.

Michael prodded Foster's body with his toe. Satisfied that
Foster was dead, Michael looked around and appeared ready to
leave. Suddenly, from behind the kitchen door, Evie hit him over
the head with a whiskey bottle. Michael joined Foster on the
floor, knocked unconscious. Evie ran out the door and into the
street, giving me a few precious seconds to rifle Michael's
pockets before escaping.

Foster's deputies arrived soon thereafter and arrested the still
unconscious Michael, lynching him immediately in the town's
central square. As I saw them throwing the noose over the
gallows, I couldn't help muttering," And may God have mercy on
your soul."

Sue was mad. She had wanted to capture and question Michael
about his involvement in Lucy's death but I was unwilling to use
the necklace to question someone as obviously experienced as
Michael. Instead I went to the arroyo and found Michael's Time
Machine. I read the settings on the dials and cross-referenced
them with the Sheriff's travel diary to calculate Michael's point
of origin. Sue pointed out that the coordinates allow for three
possible origins, not to mention all of the places that Michael
could have been that the Sheriff hadn't. I wasn't worried,
however, calmly explaining that the contents of Michael's pockets
(a set of keys, some mail, and an address book) reinforced and
confirmed my solution.

Back at the hunting cabin, I announced my plan to go to Peter's
world. Everyone volunteered to come with me. I mentally noted
the varying motives of my fellow travelers, but told the Witbiers
to stay and rebuild their lives. The Sheriff's diary indicated
that Peter's headquarters was in a place similar to 1920's New
Orleans. The plan was that we would travel as 5 male laborers.

While the girls were busy altering Augie's clothing to fit
themselves, I read through the correspondence we had found on
Michael. Like most business travelers, Michael had traveled
light. Keys, money, his address book, and some mail were all
that his pockets contained. I thumbed through the date book and
found one of the days noted with "Peter's Masked Ball." I only
hoped that the date hadn't passed.

By the next morning, everyone was ready to go. The sight of the
girls checking their weapons before boarding the Time Machine was
unnerving. I hoped that our single shot .45's would be a match
for whatever Peter carried. We climbed into the machine. I set
the dials and we disappeared from the canyon in a ripple of

* Peter's World
The trip to Peter's world was short. No one experienced the
discomfort they had in traveling to Fry. We had just started to
experience the tingling sensation when the machine abruptly re-
materialized in a large open space, like a warehouse. The amount
of silver Michael had usually transported was small, so I had
hoped that there wouldn't be a reception party.

Luckily the warehouse was empty except for a shiny black car. We
loaded up in Michael's model A Sedan and looked for a clue to
tell us where we were. Using a map found in the glove box, we
found Michael's house in the French Quarter in only a short
while. His keys let us into his house and found his
housekeeper/slave, Yvonne.

I had Bert tie her up and put her into her rooms until I could
question her. I intended to probe her for Michael's mind
controls that I was sure would be there. I hoped that they would
give me some clues on how Peter used the MC Device. I was afraid
that, with the thirty odd years of practice he had on me, Peter's
mind control techniques would quickly overwhelm me.

The girls, meanwhile, found appropriate clothing, money, and
other necessities that we would need during our stay in 1920's
New Orleans. During the search, Bert found the invitation to
Peter's Masked Ball. It was in two nights. That was our chance
to meet Peter face to face.

While everyone worked on the logistics of getting around town and
to the party, I went to Yvonne's rooms and experimented. I found
that Michael had her "programmed" for lesbian and group sex in
addition to her housekeeping/cooking/bodyguard duties.

She told me all about Peter's parties with relish. She explained
that they were like Roman orgies, each room and niche in the
Garden District mansion housing had its own sex show, the
diversity of which boggled my mind. I took careful notes on the
layout of Peter's house, sure that I would need to know my way
around. While she talked, I searched through her mind. Some
things I found were readily explainable, others were not. Rather
than risk hurting her, I left her tied up and returned to the
main house.

After everyone had settled in to Michael's house, I sat in the
courtyard mulling over a plan to capture and question Peter. Sue
was positive that Peter was behind Lucy's death. She said that
she would rather skip the questioning and get right to the

I decided that, given the bulky nature of Peter's MC Device, it
was unlikely that he would use mind control during a public
party. I told the group that we needed to come up with something
that would earn us a "private audience" with Peter so that we
could get him alone. My idea was to dress Sue in a leather
dominitrix outfit with Bert and Andrea as her submissives. I
suggested that the highlight of the act would be Sue doing them
both with a strap on. I would act as the chauffeur and Ernie
would stay and guard the house.

* Peter's Party
The party was in full swing when we arrived. Inside the house
was an orgy. Various groups performed sex acts in the alcoves
and rooms, guests milled about discussing what they saw. We
walked around noting people. I found Peter immediately. He was
a well-dressed man surrounded by sycophants. He seemed to enjoy
watching the festivities rather than joining in them, leading me
to conclude that Peter was the type that got his kicks from
controlling the emotions of others rather than by participating
in the act itself.

Sue led her two assistants through the party on leashes. Playing
her role to the hilt, she haughtily stalked up the stairs seeming
to size up her competition. The trio found a room where another
dominitrix was performing with a slave girl. Rather than wait or
look for another room, Sue took the opportunity to join in,
showing the crowd her strap on before entering the slave girl
from behind. This was obviously something the crowd found new
and exciting. Sue's act had them groping each other, some
disrobed and groveled at her feet, begging to enter the scene.

Sue had Andrea brought forth on a leash and made her eat the
other dominitrix, drawing gasps of disbelief from people in the
room. This brazen pornography shocked the jaded 1920's crowd.
Sensing that she had their attention, Sue concentrated on using
Andrea as the center of attention. drawing her forward, Sue
pushed her hips forward and made Andrea suck her dildo before Sue
entered her.

Soon, as I had hoped, Michael arrived to survey the scene. He
appeared to be impressed and, after the act was over, made his
way to Sue and invited her back into another wing of the house
for a smaller "more select soiree." To my consternation,
however, Peter also asked Sue about Michael. I wasn't sure how
he'd made the connection between her and his missing steward, but
Sue handled herself beautifully. She told Peter that she and
Michael were acquainted and that Michael had left instructions
for her to receive his invitation if his business trip kept him
from attending. Peter seemed to accept this but I couldn't quell
the alarm I felt.

The private party was a much smaller event, held on Peter's
terrace. Slaves paraded around dressed like Arabian harem girls,
while Peter and his guests lounged on overstuffed pillows. As
before, the scene was decorated with slaves performing sex with
guests while Peter watched. What was different, I noted, was
that Peter had added a turban to his costume, obviously
concealing an MC Device. I concluded that Peter was actually
orchestrating some of the action.

I hung back and waited for the look of concentration of Peter's
face that would indicate he was trying to use the Device to
control someone. As soon as I saw it, I slipped into Peter's
mind and looked for a weakness. Inside, I roamed the now
familiar "house" setting of another person's mind.

What I found disgusted me. Peter had overshadowed his tremendous
intellect with an addiction to the power and hedonism the Device
gave him. His memories told a story of a man fallen from grace.
Feeling ignored by women, he had started by using them,
singularly and then in groups, to explore his own fantasies.
Growing bored easily, he had sunk into perversion experimenting
with men, women, and children in various combinations and
activities. I left Peter's mind quickly, the vision of some of
Peter's more spectacular debauchery still vivid.

* The Showdown
I clamped down on Peter's sleep impulse, trying to put him down
as I had done with the Sheriff. Peter, free from the alcohol
that the Sheriff had been drinking, fought back. We had a
virtual showdown in the passages of his mind as I tried to
disable him while he tried to trap me in the labyrinth of his

Only seconds had passed, but we had fought to an impasse.
Searching for a way to get the upper hand, Peter activated a
control he had inserted into Andrea's mind during her
performance. She jumped on me, clawing at my eyes like a wild
cat. I disengaged my mind from his, unable to maintain my
concentration while Andrea raked her nails down my face. I
yelled to Sue to tackle Peter. Our only hope was to get the MC
Device off his head. Peter, freed from my attack, tried to
resume concentration but Ernie got to him first, ripping the MC
Device from his head.

Bert wrestled Andrea off my back, pinning her arms behind her
back. Her eyes rolled and her mouth frothed with insane anger.
Seeing his trump card subdued, Peter looked up from the floor and
gave a little smile.

He said a word. Andrea stiffened and then pitched forward, dead.
Peter had gained the upper hand, due to his experience using the
"dark side" of mind control. He turned and pointed toward Sue
but was too late. Ever the quick thinker, she hit him over the
head and knocked him unconscious.

Peter's guests stared at us in disbelief. Most thought that we
were acting out some kind of rape fantasy. Ignoring them, we
carried Andrea and Peter into an alcove. drawing the curtains, I
took a quick breath before continuing.

While Peter was incapacitated, I continued looking through his
mind, wary of the traps that Peter might have set. I found that
Peter had been looking for information on any improvements or
other devices that Brantwell might have left in the bunker.
Brantwell had grown to distrust Peter in later years and, with
his usual secrecy, had taken to dropping false clues to mislead
even his assistants. .

I was disappointed to find that Peter had not been the one that
killed Lucy, even though he had been there. The actual killer
had been Michael. When I told the others what had happened, they
were deflated by this revelation. Momentarily at a loss for what
to do next, we sat in stunned silence. Sue, ever the one to act
on impulse, broke the tension by killing Peter with a bullet in
the crotch. The echoes of the gunshot still rang in the air as
Sue turned to me and announced that she was ready to go home.

We jumped out a low window and escaped to Michael's house through
the dark New Orleans streets. Collecting our gear, I felt the
accusing stares of my friends. I poured a drink and tried to
explain what had happened. I gave the Reader's Digest version of
mind control, but the sight of Peter bleeding to death on the
patio tile had sapped everyone's ability to ask questions. We
all just wanted to return to our nice, normal, mundane lives.

We returned to our world, not via the bunker warehouse, but to a
lonely spot Michael had used during his visits. We found the car
he had stashed for his own transportation in a small storage shed
and awkwardly stood around, everyone unwilling to be the first to
break the silence. Looking at the digital clock in the vehicle,
Bert told us that the two weeks we had spent on the other planes
had passed here as well.

We said our farewells and then split. Bert and Ernie went back
to their jobs sated by the excitement for the moment, both ready
for their next adventure. Sue and I stood alone in the dark
storage shed. She admitted that the thrill had gotten to her and
that she wasn't sure that she would be able to return to her
mundane, 9 to 5 existence. I reminded her that we hadn't found
Brantwell yet and as long as he roamed free, others might try and
take advantage of his devices.

Sue smiled and said that she'd order the pizza while I packed.
We hid the travel machine into Michael's storage shed and left
for my apartment, already preparing for the next trip.


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