Controlling the Girl Next Door
The Magic Remote, Volume 1
Nadia Nightside
Published by Midnight Publishing, 2015.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
CONTROLLING THE GIRL NEXT DOOR
First edition. April 23, 2015.
Copyright © 2015 Nadia Nightside.
Written by Nadia Nightside.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Controlling the Girl Next Door (The Magic Remote, #1)
Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.
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Further Reading: Mesmerized! Nine Stories of Mind Control
About the Author
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* * * * *
Author's Note: All Characters Depicted Herein Are 18 Years Of Age Or Older.
* * * * *
Controlling the Girl Next Door
Jared couldn't believe what he had found, cleaning out his grandfather's trunk in his closet.
His parents had assigned him any number of odd jobs to take care of. This was number one hundred and seventeen, and he was getting a little nervous. There were only one hundred and thirty things on the list, and once he stopped taking of them, he was afraid they were going to start charging him rent.
Up until this point, everything in the old trunk had been fairly dull stuff. Old outfits with gross color combinations and wide collars, packets of letters from pen pals in Germany and Australia, dusty old parts of models of trains and small wintery towns, that sort of thing.
Then he came upon a videotape. It was tied with twine to a thick remote the size of a chalkboard eraser and a weird-looking helmet apparatus, gold metal with little violet glass pieces inlaid upon it.
It was all odd to him: the apparatus, the clicker, and especially finding a videotape—his grandfather would have already been quite old by the time VHS had even been invented.
Maybe that was why Jared immediately went downstairs from the attic, into his bedroom, and dusted off his old VCR from his closet.
Jared had gotten the VCR as a birthday present when he was about ten. The very next year, DVD took off, and he had to save up and get a player of his own seven years later, as his parents had been scared off from buying any media-output device from then on.
Now, Jared was twenty-five, still living in his parents home. Five months ago, he had been laid off from his telecommunications job. It was a kind of blessing, as he had never liked it very much, but he did miss the regular paycheck.
He also missed the freedom of being on his own and doing whatever he wanted, when he wanted. Living with his parents, now, was humiliating. They didn't charge him rent, and his mother made home-cooked meals every night, and somehow that made it all even worse.
Sitting down in front of his small flat screen television, he popped in the VHS to the old VCR. He was happy to find that both of the old artifacts still worked.
The video flickered on, showing some kind of interview session in a white room. There was a woman sitting on a chair.
A man's voice said, “Is it on?”
The woman said, “Yes. I see the light. It's blinking.”
“Wonderful.”
A face came into view—his grandfather's face! Younger, though. Much younger than Jared had ever seen him. He was wearing the same crown that Jared had in his hands. His grandfather adjusted the camera for a moment, and then moved back behind the camera.
“All right,” his grandfather said. “I have this remote here. We are testing it, yes? Seeing whether it works.”
The woman nodded. She was strikingly good looking—wearing a dark blue pantsuit. Her lovely brown hair was done up in a thick ponytail above her head.
“I want you to tell me how you feel about me,” his grandfather said.
She shrugged. “You're a nice man. You pay me well. You don't ask for unreasonable things.”
“And in a romantic sense?”
She blanched. “Really, Doctor?”
“This is for science, my dear. Please.”
“Fine. I don't really have any romantic feelings toward you. When I first worked here, you asked me out, and I declined. You were very professional about it, which I appreciated then and now.”
“Wonderful,” said the doctor.
Jared heard a clicking sound, and then a deep humming, and then a bright purple light flashed across the screen.
“How do you feel now?” his grandfather asked.
The woman just moaned in response, staring forward blankly.
“You feel wonderful,” said his grandfather.
“Wonderful,” the woman echoed, nodding happily, smiling.
“You always feel wonderful when I'm around.”
“Always wonderful when you're around.” Her smile grew wider, a flush moving up her neck.
“You've adored me for some time now.”
There was a cut in the tape. Static filled the screen for a moment.
Jared found his cock was hard as a rock. Was he holding . . . did he have some kind of mind control device in his hands right now? Was that what the crown and the clicker were?
The picture came back. The woman had her shirt off now, her fingers shoved deep inside her pussy. Her other hand was massaging her tits through her skimpy, lacy bra.
“You are my slave.”
“I am your slave,” said the woman, pouting hotly and pouring herself into the words.
It wasn't blankness on the woman's mind, Jared realized. It was zeal. She so firmly believed everything she heard that no other thoughts could fill her head.
Jared felt his cock pushing up through his shorts. He kneaded his cock through the thin material, rewinding the tape.
“I am your slave,” the woman breathed.
He rewound it over and over.
“I am your slave,” the woman breathed again. Hotter and hotter each time.
His pants slipped around his ankles. His shaft already slick and hard with precum. How was he supposed to do anything else? He paused the video on her blank face, small bits
of drool sliding down from her lips.
His arm pumped furiously as he jacked his hand up and down his cock. Above him, the air-conditioner switched on. His seven-inch shaft was completely slick, and jacking off seemed almost an afterthought to the feeling of the air pressing in so forcefully on his wet, sensitive shaft.
The woman on the screen was so hot. She was so controlled. This was so surreal. He had to come. He had to. He couldn't help it. She couldn't help but obey and he couldn't help but come.
Groaning, he spurted out onto his hand, the thick white cum filling up his palm quickly. He struggled to shift around, grabbing a tissue off his nightstand before laying back on his bed. It took him a moment to clean everything, to let his thoughts clear.
Okay.
Okay.
Now he could concentrate. He needed to get himself under control.
Control. That was the word of the day, wasn't it? At the foot of his bed was a device that would allow him to control whoever he wanted, fuck whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted . . .
No. Himself. He needed to stay under control.
He needed, no matter what, not to run wild with this device and put every girl he could find into a deep, everlasting trance that would forever bind her to his cock.
Oh god. He was getting hard again. He sat up on the bed, putting his shorts back on and staring down at the device, at the image of the controlled woman still on his television screen.
He couldn't do anything like that.
That was immoral, to do something like that. To take some hot babe like Mrs. Russell across the street, and fuck up her whole mind into thinking he was her total god, dominating every thought she had for the rest of her life to think only of his greatness and his cock.
Fuck.
Okay.
He needed to get someone else here, that was the solution.
Contemplative, he stepped over to his bedroom window. Outside, he could see Carmen Russell sunbathing her sumptuously hot body in her white, pink-striped bikini. Mrs. Russell's stepdaughter.
He had always really like that outfit. She was flat out gorgeous, just like her stepmother.
Light brown hair, viciously long legs, wonderful breasts that were just the right size to spill out of a man's hands, and the kind of face that he imagined ancient Valkyries were supposed to have. Severely sexy, with an elegant, regal turn to her nose, full lips, and that delicious kind of distinction to her chin and jaw that models had.
She had modeled, he knew. Little vanity shots for local businesses. He had jerked off to them more than once. Anybody she talked to knew she had big aspirations of going big time. Probably she could make it, too.
Maybe he could convince her to come and take a look at this tape, give him a second opinion?
Yeah, sure, he told himself. That's all he wanted from her. A second opinion.
* * * * *
Carmen wasn't sure what to make of Jared Harrison, even as he led her over to his house.
It was the first time she even ever really been on his lawn. The Harrisons' house was always a strange one within Meadow Heights. Most of the residences were large estates, with enormous swimming pools and multiple layers of backyard, and a three-floor minimum, like Carmen's house. Her father was an engineer, and made enough to own the house completely, no mortgage at all.
The Harrisons, though, were teachers, or librarians, something like that. Something low-paying. Their paltry little two-story, fourteen hundred square foot house reflected that. They had moved in long, long before the property values went up. Carmen thought smugly that, even so, they would still be paying the mortgage on it when she was earning her third graduate degree on her father's dime.
It was nice to have some privilege, to enjoy a place in the world. Her forays into modeling were just reflections of that part of her personality—it wasn't about being admired, for her. No, it was about showing off.
Jared Harrison was usually nice enough, she supposed, but it seemed like every time she or her stepmother were outside, he had some reason for being outside as well.
When Carmen was sunbathing, he had to trim the hedges.
When Carmen was washing the car, he had to wash his car, too.
When Monica, Carmen's stepmother, was doing yoga in the gazebo in the backyard, he was watering the backyard lawn.
These little instances added up. She and her stepmother talked about it quite often. They were close in age—Carmen only eighteen, and Monica twenty-five.
At first, Carmen had found this proximity in age a little disturbing, and grew distant from her father for a time. But, she found Monica to be a really wonderful person—giving and thoughtful—who was used to all the pressures Carmen had felt at high school as one of the hottest girls around. Monica always had killer advice on what to wear, what to say to guys to turn down dates and let them down easy, and how to know when someone was only talking to her for her looks. Carmen was going to college at the end of the summer, and Monica was full of good thoughts on which classes had the most men in them.
But, today, Jared didn't seem like he was only talking to her for her looks. Even with Carmen wearing nothing but a teensy string bikini, a tiny near-transparent white wrap around her lovely ass serving as a skirt, and a pair of pink platform sandals—he looked her in the eyes with every word he said.
Though, Carmen noted with a certain satisfaction, it did seem to be something of a struggle for him.
“It's just, really important. I think it could be important, you know? Like really important.”
“You mean it's like, important?” Carmen teased.
He didn't seem to catch on. “Yeah, exactly! Like, for science!”
She rolled her eyes as he turned around and stepped inside the house. She followed him in, and immediately crinkled her nose. The smell of cat urine was permeating through everything.
“Do you have cats, here?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “Tom and Jerry.”
“Jerry was a mouse.”
“Well,” he shrugged. “Not in this house.”
“Look,” she said, striking her hands through the air. “No offense, but this place stinks, and I really don't like cats. So, whatever it is you need to show me, let's do it outside.”
His face changed then, though he still smiled. The smile went from wide, open, and excited, kind of like a boy's smile, to something cold. Something more knowing and mature.
“Okay, Carmen,” he said. “You're the boss. Wait here, okay? I'll be right back.”
She did wait, taking a look around. Every floor was covered in gross carpet. There were pictures of people everywhere. Family, she supposed. The walls were covered in bad paint and worse flowery wallpaper. Where was the art? Where were the plants? Who could live like this?
She heard steps thump down the stairs.
“Carmen, pay attention,” she heard him say, and then there was a bright, violet light.
* * * * *
Carmen loved this house. It was such a nice place. She was really glad Jared had brought her here.
“I'm just, so impressed by the décor here,” she said.
They were in his bedroom. This was her favorite room in his house. That was a perfectly natural thing to feel, to really love this bedroom that was so great.
“Thanks,” he said.
She was on his bed. She was sitting next to him on his bed. She would have been uncomfortable—he was so much older than her, after all, but she liked this room so much that it was okay just to sit there.
And the smell of the place! She inhaled deeply. It was heavenly.
“So what did you want to show me? Besides this ultra-cool room, I mean.”
It was an ultra-cool room. He had posters of half-naked women everywhere, interspersed with tall decals of skull-clad video game heroes and sports teams she hadn't heard of. It was a totally great room to be inside of, at any time.
“It's this videotape,” he said. “I want you to watch some of it with me.”
&n
bsp; He pressed the remote.
“VHS?” she asked. “That's really . . . old.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It's okay, though.”
Sure, right. It was okay. Keep an open mind, Carmen. New experiences can be really fun. She believed that totally.
The video started playing. There was an old man for an instant, and then a young woman answering questions. Soon she was repeating everything she heard. The video skipped around, and then the woman was masturbating.
“Jesus, Jared!” Carmen stood up. “Is this a porno? Is that why you brought me here?”
“No!” he said, protesting. He paused the video. The woman's face was lolled to one side, her face in ecstasy. “Look! It's real life. This actually happened.”
“Pornos actually happen all the time.”
“But . . . no, I mean he really controlled her. He used this stuff.”
He pointed behind her on the bed. There was a clicker and a crown-looking thingy.
“You can't be serious.”
“I really am.”
Carmen looked down at him. Her eyes trailed down to his crotch—he was getting a boner! Oh, gross! He looked panicked, suddenly, like he saw what she had seen.
Enough was enough. She didn't care how great of a room this was, she had to leave right now.
“Look,” she said. “Clearly you're, um, really excited by all of this, but I'm not. So I'm leaving.”
She walked to the door. She heard some shuffling behind her, the bed springs groaning. Her hand was around the knob when he said her name. There was a flash of violet.
* * * * *
God, Jared was super cute. Did he have a girlfriend? She hoped not. She wanted to fuck him.
She wanted him to be the one to fuck her. Her first. The thought bounced around her mind happily.
They were on his bed. Her hands were on his thighs, happily stroking him through the fabric of his shorts. His bulge, quite visible, quite delicious-looking, was just beyond where her fingers stroked.
Not for long, though.
“So, this device, I think it's not really total mind control. I think it just encourages people to believe whatever they hear. Really, really encourages them. I guess my grandpa kept it secret, somehow. Or maybe he just never used it after the first time.”
Controlling the Girl Next Door (The Magic Remote Book 1) Page 1
