Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Ma/ft, mt/Fa, Fa/Fa, ft/ft, Fa/ft, Mult, Teenagers, Mind Control, Rape, Reluctant, Science Fiction, Cheating, Slut Wife, Wife Watching, Incest, Mother, Son, Brother, Sister, Father, Daughter, Cousins, Uncle, Niece, Aunt, Nephew, MaleDom, Light Bond, Group Sex, Orgy, Swinging, Interracial, Black Male, White Male, White Female, Oriental Male, Oriental Female, Hispanic Male, Anal Sex, Cream Pie, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, First, Oral Sex, Big Breasts, Public Sex, Size,
Desc: Mind Control Sex Story: Prologue - The Reverend Richard's family is back from vacation. Now time to put the plan they decided on into action. Story codes added as it progresses.
Friday, December, Year -2
He was old, dying. He hoped he had enough time left to finish his mission. Standing on the street outside the Holy Oaks Unity Church in Springfield, he could hear the music and laughter of a Christmas party. The parking lot was more than half full with cars, and everyone looked to be inside enjoying themselves. He didn’t know what car she drove, but hoped if she was in attendance that his actions stayed unconnected. He opened the mail slot on the postal receptacle and deposited two letters. He smiled grimly.
Family taken care of. Sorry about crashing.
He wore a well-made, lined overcoat and matching fedora, of a style not seen in decades, against the biting wind. Watching his steps carefully, a fall on unseen ice would likely break something, he made for the well-lit main door. Even at his age, his eyesight remained sharp; he could see the doorstop keeping it cracked so no one would be locked out. He struggled up the steps on feet suddenly leaden. When his hand fell on the door handle, pain shot down his arm.
No! Not yet! Just a few minutes more!
Pushing himself mercilessly, he heaved the door open and slipped through. His shuffling feet kicked the stop aside, and the door clanged shut behind him. No matter, he was committed now and feared his departure wasn’t fated to be vertical. A young woman, barely into her teens with straw-colored hair and sapphire eyes stuck a head out of a female-marked bathroom doorway. An questioning scowl decorated her beautiful face. She opened a mouth to say something when he tripped and stumbled to his knees.
She rushed out, long-limbed and slender. Even in his final moments he noticed her sexy form and sensual movements. Her dress fell to just above her knees and her boots clattered as she ran to his side.
“Help! Somebody, help us!” She called.
A teen boy, shapeless in collared shirt and slacks ran up behind her.
“What happened? What ... what’s going on?” He stammered.
The girl glanced over her shoulder, shouting, “Go get my dad, or yours. He doesn’t look healthy. Hurry. Please!”
The boy held her gaze for a moment, then he nodded and ran back towards the sounds of revelry.
“Help me. Up.” He gurgled.
She grasped his arm, helped him move to a chair across the entryway. He pushed himself upright, seated. His fingers fumbled, but he dared not remove his gloves. It took long seconds to extract the first coin from his pocket. He pressed it to her palm.
“For your help.” He rasped.
She held it up, gray and brown dust staining her skin as she rubbed to see what kind of coin it was. He’d intentionally used worn, nearly unintelligible, odd-sized ones. Curiosity would do his work for him. He hoped.
“What is this? I don’t recognize it.” She asked.
He shook his head silently, pointed. “Water? Please?”
Even blinking took effort. He willed himself to stay conscious and aware.
“I don’t have a cup. You don’t look good; I don’t want to leave you sir. You came in and the door slammed and I don’t know your name and ... and ... Sir?” She babbled.
His laugh immediately turned to a coughing fit. He tried to wave her away, but she seemed not to notice.
“Chest. Pain. Barely. Breathe.” He forced out between gut wrenching hacks.
He just made out the sounds of many feet running. Heels tapping on tile, it sounded like mostly men approaching. He had less time left than he’d figured. With effort, he jammed both hands into the coat pockets again. His left came free first, and he squinted to be sure the card was between his fingers. It was. His right pulled the inside back out with it as his fist came out clutching the remaining three coins. He looked from face to face, hoping to see the right sort. Curious. Inquisitive.
The group entered his view, two men and two teens. One was the boy from earlier, the other a little older. A priest, he could tell by the clerical collar, followed with another whose resemblance to the first boy was unmistakeable. The teens were in front, and he arrested their flight by tossing the coins at them, underhanded.
They boys dodged, attempting to catch them in the air. They missed, but circled, snatching them from the floor. The final coin came to rest under the priest’s stomping foot. Quizzically, he stooped to pinch it between thumb and forefinger. The other adult ignored the distraction, maintaining his attention on their visitor. They traded nods and he proffered the card in his left hand, subtly.
“Porsche, step back please.” The last man instructed, and the visitor realized this had to be the girl’s father.
A glance told the visitor all the coins were recovered.
The die is cast. May your efforts be better than mine.
“Good. Luck.” He muttered, slumping into unconsciousness.
John Wolfe put a phone to his ear as the boys laid the man out on the floor.
“Porsche, go get a blanket and pillow.” He ordered his daughter.
“Yes daddy! He said his chest hurt and he couldn’t breathe.”
“Heart attack. Thanks! Go.”
She scampered off.
A bored voice. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“This is John Wolfe, I’m at the Holy Oaks Church. We have a man in distress. Just went unconscious, complained of chest pain and shortness of breath.”
“Yes sir. We’re dispatching an ambulance and police to you now. Where in the church are you?” The dispatcher sounded more awake now.
“Right inside the front door. I’m propping it open now.”
He did just that, moving the doorstop back into place with a toe.
Reverend Young pointed at the stairs, and Duke took off. Porsche returned with several table cloths and a bundle of jackets for a pillow. A small crowd followed her, gawking. John made a shooing motion. Tomas and Russell made their way through the crowd. They nodded to John. Tomas moved to Richard Young’s side while Russell turned in place and spread his arms wide. He motioned people to move back.
Duke returned with a small red box, and Tomas congratulated him while unzipping the seam around it’s center.
The dispatcher kept John on the phone, asking what was occurring until the first uniformed cop pulled up.
“The squad car just arrived. I’m hanging up now.” John said, before ending the call.
He waved the officer over, explaining, “Unconscious, chest pain, shortness of breath. They started an AED.”
“Thank you, sir.” The cop answered.
The cop looked around, taking the scene in. Then he shot a look at Russell’s back.
“Chief?” He called.
Russell turned around. “Baker.” He motioned the cop over.
After a short conversation, the cop stayed, keeping everyone else away while Russell walked over to John.
“Who is it?” He asked.
“I didn’t recognize him.” John said. “Didn’t look that old, but acted like he felt ancient.”
“Hmmm. Heart attack symptoms?” Russell mused.
“That’s what my daughter said. I didn’t hear him say anything. One thing though.”
“Yes?” Russell was distracted. “Baker! How long?”
“Pulling up now chief!” The cop responded.
John pushed the door open to signal the paramedics. They dismounted and extracted a rolling stretcher from the rear. Carrying it up the steps they bustled inside. Both men directed them to the victim. John grabbed Russell’s arm as he made to follow.
“Russ.” He hissed.
The police chief stopped. “Yes?”
“He had something in his uh, left? Yeah, left hand. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I’d like to see.” John explained.
“No problem. I’ll check. Let’s get this sorted.” Russell marched off.
A week later, District Attorney John Wolf sat in his office reading the police report. The John Doe who’d come to the party had indeed died of heart failure. None of the normal medical procedures had worked to revive the man. Even CPR hadn’t been sufficient to even keep his circulation going. Not that the man would’ve lived much longer anyway. A massive tumor occupied the bottom half of his torso. How he eliminated waste the medical examiner had no idea. It had metastasized throughout the rest of his body as well. Heart, lungs, sensory organs, brain, limbs, all were compromised. Truly a dead man walking. So sad.
No wallet was found in the clothes the police recovered. His only possession was a business card, worn and wrinkled, for a travel agency. The telephone number was so faded it took a magnifying glass to make out the digits. A newer code was written on the back in blue ink.
John rubbed the card absently. He stopped himself when he realized the printed pattern was sticking to his thumb and not the cardboard. With a resigned sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed.
“Paradise Cove Travel.” An intoxicating female voice announced.
“Uh, hello.” John was suddenly at a loss. “Um, hi, my name’s John.”
“Hi John.” The voice smiled. Audibly. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m ... trying to ... get some ... information.” He vainly tried to pull his thoughts together.
“Are you calling on your own behalf, or someone else’s?” The voice inquired.
John thought for a second. “For myself, I guess.”
“Excellent.” The voice purred. “And are you a family man, or single?”
“I have a family. Why?” He was lost now.
“Do you have a code for me?” The voice was almost flirting with him now.
“Uh, yeah I do. 5-3-1-8-0-0-8.” He read off the card.
“Then, we’re pleased to offer a special rate for a week’s stay at our flagship resort. Would you be interested?” The voice was pure smoke and honey now.
No reason not to take a deal when its offered.
“Sure.” He replied. “Where is it, and how much?”
“It’s the Paradise Cove Family Holiday Resort, on a beautiful little island in the Caribbean. If you give me an email address, I can send you some pictures and booking information while we talk.”
The voice was good, no doubt about that. He answered without hesitation, and they chatted about availability while he absently perused the pictures. Before he knew it, he’d fished out a credit card and was all set for a week-long stay in late spring.
“Excellent. We look forward to having your family stay with us.” The voice concluded, a while later.
“Thank you! Goodbye.” He smiled back and hung up.
He crumpled the card up and dropped it into the trash without further thought. He closed the report and slid it into his filing drawer, moving on to the next case.
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