Hard Candy - A Mind Control Story
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Copyright 1995, by the author.  All rights reserved.   
Any reproduction of this work outside the confines 
of the usenet news group, alt.sex.stories, without 
the explicit permission of the author is prohibited.
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Hard Candy
by Dafney Dewitt

   "Confidence is the feeling you have before you
     understand the situation." - Dafney Dewitt
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Story #5 of Fullers' Follies


Fuller glanced in his rearview mirror again to check on the
expensive Jaguar weaving through the waves of downtown
traffic like a shark.  He pulled his battered blue Chevy to 
the curb around the corner from Mazzio's Deli, and watched
as the black Jaguar slid to a stop behind him.  Fuller walked
to the rear of his car and waited while Mr. Gerber exited the
Jaguar.

They were an odd couple.  Gerber was a handsome grey-haired
business man dressed in a custom fit dark blue pin-stripped suit.
He projected an image of wealth and success.  Fuller was a marked 
contrast to this urban sophistication.  He had dressed down for the 
occassion in old blue jeans, and a white sweatshirt with bright red 
letters printed on the front that said  'Stanford University'.  This was 
the attire Fuller had chosen for his role as an unemployed, and partly
disreputable chemistry professor.

Scanning the street for trouble, Fuller carefully popped open the
trunk lid on the rusted Chevy.  Carefully keeping one hand on the
lid to keep it from flying open, he allowed Mr. Gerber to peer 
inside at 10 clear plastic milk jugs filled with water.

"Is that all?" asked Gerber with undsguised disappointment filling
his voice.
"It's not what it seems," Fuller tried to assure him.
"It looks like water."
"Pick a bottle," Fuller said.  He almost added 'any bottle' but caught
himself just in time.  He did not want to sound like a street hustler
promoting a game of 3 Card Monty.

Mr. Gerber pointed to a bottle in the middle.  Fuller unscrewed the
cap, and made a big display of inserting a small plastic suction bulb
that aspirated about 2 cc's of the fluid.  Fuller transferred this liquid
to a much smalled glass bottle, the size of his little finger, that had 
once contained clove oil.

"Just 5 drops," Fuller added in way of explanation.
"Is that enough?" questioned Gerber.
"It's good for 3 hours."

Fuller carefully screwed the cap down on the small clove oil bottle,
and placed it in the right front pocket of his jeans.  Mr. Gerber gave
a skeptical glance at Fuller, and carefully stepped back up on the
curb being careful not to get gutter water on his alligator shoes.

"Let's go," said Fuller slamming the car trunk shut.

Standing at the corner, waiting for traffic light to change, Fuller 
stepped back from the curb seconds before a white Lincoln 
Continental cut in close around the corner splashing gutter water
onto Mr. Gerber's shoes.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" yelled Gerber in anger at being sprayed.

Fuller and Gerber watched as the Continental pulled to the curb 
twenty feet away and the rear door swung open.  At first all they 
could see was a pair of high heeled black shoes attached to a pair 
of long shapely legs that seemd to go on forever.  Sensuously, a 
stunnigly beautiful woman emerged, discreetly brushing her white 
business dress back down over her thighs.  Fuller, felt like a fortunate 
voyeur to have witnessed this free reverse strip-tease.  The woman 
glanced in their direction and gave them both a look of disdain.  She 
had shoulder-length black hair that embraced her pixie doll face, and 
was wearing a shapely white business suit.  In a gesture of disapproval, 
for their ogling her exit, she flipped her head around in a dismissive 
sneer and walked off in the opposite direction.  Even walking away, 
she kept their attention with her self-assured errect posture that made 
her behind wiggle with every footstep.  She was one of those 
unapproachable women, with an attitude, who knew she was 
drop-dead gorgeous.

"I'd like to give that bitch a piece of my mind," muttered Gerber 
looking down at his mud spattered alligator shoes.
"Come on," said Fuller urging him to cross the street.  "We have 
more important things to do."
"Some women were born to be bitches," Gerber repeated, clinging 
to his anger like a mantra until they entered Mazzio's Deli.

They ordered coffee and croissants.  The weather was pleasantly warm
and sunny so they sat at one o the outside tables.  A young tall girl with
a blond ponytail served them.  She had a minor acne inflamation on her 
chin, but smiled in an attractive flirting way.  Fuller guessed that Gerber
would probably leave her a generous tip.

After taking a sip of coffee, Mr. Gerber began.
"I need an absolute guarantee."
"I understand," said Fuller making a gesture of surrender by holding
both his hands in the air as if he were being robbed at gun point.
"You'll have to convince me."
"I can do better then that."
"How?"
"I'll let you test it yourself."
"What do I do?"
"First, I need to explain that it's not an aphrodesiac."
"OK.  So it doen't drive women wild."
"Correct."
"That's disappointing."
"It's only an ego suppressant."
"What's that mean?"
"It means the person under the influence will obey any strongly
worded commands given by others."
"Not just the person giving them the drug?"
"No.  Anyone."

Mr. Gerber took a generous bite of his croissant followed by a sip 
of coffee, and mulled this over in his mind.  Fuller waited patiently.

"So, it does give you the power to control women . . ."
"Yes."
". . .but doesn't create a Master-Slave Relationship."

Fuller answered the second half of this question carefully.  He did not
want to disappoint Mr. Gerber with too many realistic limitations.

"Technically, no.  But if you arrange to be in isolation with the drug
recipient, then you can manipulate the relationship in whatever way
you want."
"If there are no outside influences, you mean?"
"Exactly,:" encouraged Fuller shaking his head vigorously in agreement.

While Fuller was agreeing with Mr. Gerber, the arrogant lady from the
Lincoln Continental sat down several tables behind him.  She crossed 
her long legs, slipping one of her high heeled shoes off so it dangled by 
the toe, and jiggling it impatiently while waiting for the waitress.

"What's the name of this drug?"
"It's a PsychoActive Tri-Ethyl Acetilpolymotride Delaminate."
"Yes, but what do you call it?"
"Hard Candy."
"Hard Candy?"
"Once you've used it, you'll realize the name fits."
"When can we test it?"
"Anytime you want."
"Isn't there a danger?"
"Not if I'm around to help you."
"How about right now?"
"We could test it on the waitress," offered Fuller.
"No."
"Why not?"
"I have a better idea."
"What?"
"Remember that Lincoln Continental that splashed my shoes?"
"Yes."
"Well, the arrogant bitch who got out of the car is sitting several 
tables behind you."
Fuller moved to turn around.
"No, don't look now."

Mr. Gerber bent his head toward Fuller and gave him a 
conspiratorial wink.  "Just tell me what to do."  Fuller pretended
to be taken by surprise at Gerber's selection for a test case.

"Are you sure you want to test it on her?"
"Absolutely."
"But I don't think she even likes you."
"Even better."

Fuller shrugged his shoulders in resignation.
"OK, we need an opportunity to drop the drug in her drink."
Fuller removed a small, almost empty, clove bottle from his left
hand jeans pocket and handed it to Gerber.
Gerber rolled the bottle between his thumb and forefinger staring 
at it intently as if expecting a magic genie to appear.

"What's she doing?" asked Fuller.
"She took out her cell phone, and the waitress just delivered her
order.  She's shaking her phone like the battery is dead."
"All we need is a brief opportunity,"  offered Fuller.
"She's getting up and going inside to use the pay phone."
'OK, now's our chance," said Fuller.
"What do we do?"
"Drop the drug in her coffee."
"Now?"
"Now."

Fuller watched as Mr. Gerber sauntered past the woman's empty 
table.  He used his body to block the view from inside the Deli as 
he waved his hand over her coffee.  It was all done in one swift 
motion.  Without missing a step, Mr. Gerber walked past the table
to a newspaper dispenser and bought the daily paper before returning.

"How long does it take?"
"She has to drink the coffee first," Fuller answered wryly.
"Yes, but how long?" Gerber asked impatiently.
"Less then 5 minutes."
"That fast?"
"Yes."

Fuller moved his chair around so he could view the action.  The
woman returned to her table, took a bite of her croissant sandwhich
and sipped her coffee.  Ten minutes later, she had finished eating,
brushed the crumbs away, anchored her money with a salt shaker,
and was rising to leave.

"It's time,"  urged Fuller, his voice filled with anticipation.
"What do I do?"
"Just walk over and invite her to join us."
"What if she refuses?"
"Just be insistent.  Repeat your demands.  Tell her she must."

Fuller felt the reassuring hardness of the clove oil bottle in his right 
jeans pocket while a nervous Mr. Gerber engaged the woman in
conversation.  Within minutes, they both returned to Fuller's table.
Mr. Gerber sat down, but the woman remained standing.  Fuller
frowned at Gerber.  He was obviously inexperienced in Slave-Master
Relationships.

"It's not polite to keep a lady standing," Fuller suggested.
Mr. Gerber caught the clue.
"Sit down," he ordered.
The woman sat down, and immediately began protesting.
"I really have to be going.  I'm suppose be meeting my husband."
"So your married?" asked Gerber noticing her wedding ring.
"Yes.  It was nice of you to invite me, but I really must leave."
The woman half rose out of her chair.
"Stay seated," commander Gerber.
She sat back down with a puzzled expression on her face.
For the first time, Mr. Gerber smiled at Fuller.
"I think I'm going to like this."
"My husband is an ex-football player.  He could smash you like a bug."

The woman's statement took Mr. Gerber by surprise, but Fuller helped
smooth things over.

"If you shared the candy," Fuller began "you could control two at once."
"Two women?" answered Mr. Gerber misunderstanding.
"I was thinking more in terms of a husband and wife."
"Why would I want to do that?"
"You could order the husband to prepare his wife for you.  He could lift
her dress, spread her legs, hold her arms.  He would do whatever you
wanted."

Fuller's comments ignited Mr. Gerber's imagination.
"I could make her husband hold her while I fucked her?"  Mr. Gerber
shook his head in amazement.  It seemed too incredible to be true.
"Are you talking about me?" the woman accused Mr. Gerber in a 
threatening tone of voice.
"Yes, my sweet."
"I'm not your sweet."
"Unbutton your coat."
"It's not a coat.  It's a Jordach-Marcs blazer."
"Unbutton it," commanded Gerber.

The woman unbuttoned her white blazer and let it hang open.
They could see prominent nipple bumps where her breasts pushed
against her cream colored silk blouse.

"Now unbutton your blouse."
"But people will see me," the woman looked with dismay at people
walking past on the sidewalk, but no one seemed to be returning her
look.
"I want you to unbutton your blouse," repeated Gerber in a slow
measured voice emphasizing each word.

The woman unbuttoned the first four buttons of her cream colored
blouse before Mr. Gerber seemed to take pity on her.

"Stop."

She stopped, dropping her hands to the table with her eyes cast 
downward in shame.  A slight breeze blew her blouse open giving
them a tantalizing glimpse of a lacy white bra.

"Do you know what I'm doing?" asked Mr. Gerber.
"No," answered the woman raising her eyes to look at him.
"I'm stroking my cock beneath the table."

The woman looked at Mr. Gerber with an expression of shocked
disbelief, and turned toward Fuller expecting him to do something.
Fuller's face remained impassive, but silently he felt a wave of revulsion.
This was disgusting.  He never knew what to expect when he offered
strangers their first taste of Hard Candy.  He called it Hard Candy
because of the way it opened up men's fantasies.  The power to
control women made men hard.  Once they tasted its' sweet rewards, 
they always wanted more.  But he had expected better from this well
dressed business man.  Why resort to masturbation when sex was
available?  Fuller waited, uncertain of how things would turn out.

"That's disgustingly immature," responded the woman after Fuller 
had failed to register his disapproval.  Fuller loved her comeback. 
Mr. Gerber was visibly stung by the force of her words, but quickly 
recovered.

"I'm going to share with you," promised Gerber.
"Share what?" asked the woman.
"I'm going to squirt cream in my teaspoon," said Mr. Gerber putting
his teaspoon under the table.

This time, the woman made no pretense of her expectation that Fuller 
put an end to this disgusting situation.  She turned toward Fuller.
"Aren't you going to stop him?"
"No,"  answered Fuller, wondering if he was making the wrong decision. 
Mr. Gerber frowned at Fuller and with a look of intense concentration 
squirted cream into his spoon, dropping the paper half 'n half container 
to the ground.  Carefully raising the spoon above the table Mr. Gerber 
offered it to the woman with a smile.

"Put the spoon in your mouth and swallow."
With a grimace of displeasure, the woman raised the spoon to her lips
and shook her head slightly has if she had swallowed bitter medicine.

"Lick the spoon off.  Enjoy it." commanded Gerber.

Fuller watched the woman lick off the spoon as if it had been filled with
ice cream, running her tongue around the spoon with pleasure filling her
eyes.  Fuller had a newly found admiration for Mr. Gerber.  This had 
been an extreme test, but done discreetly in a public place.  Maybe, it
would all work out.

"Stop licking and hand me your panties." commanded Mr. Gerber.
"I can't.  I'm wearing pantyhose."
"Then take off your pantyhose."

The woman lifted up in her chair as if she were going to leave and
appeared to be re-adusting her dress.  Sitting back down, she tugged
at her pantyhose until it slipped past her thighs and down her legs.
Bending over as if to pick up a dropped napkin, the woman handed 
them to Mr. Gerber.  One leg of her pantyhose almost fell into his coffee.  
Holding this female undergarment, Mr. Gerber appeared embarrassed 
and uncertain.  

"Put it in your pocket for a souvenir," suggested Fuller.
"I'm late.  I need to meet my husband," complained the woman.
"We should let her go," agreed Fuller.
"No.  I'm just getting started," insisted Gerber.

Fuller smiled benignly.  It was just like taking toys away from a 
baby.  Mr. Gerber must be at least fifty years old, and he still
wanted to play.  He had a new toy, and he did not want to give
it up.  Once they were hot and bothered, they wanted to keep
playing forever.  They just did not know when to stop.  It was
time to cool him down.

"What if her husband comes here?" warned Fuller.
"I'll control them all," answered Mr. Gerber with his eyes full of lust.
"Yes, you will"  agreed Fuller "but now is not the time."

Mr. Gerber looked at Fuller, and down at the empty clove oil bottle
laying on the table.  A look of agreement passed between them.
"You're right.  I was being premature and selfish."
"That's better," said Fuller trying to massage Gerber's injured ego.

Mr. Gerber turned toward the woman.  "You can go to your husband, 
but first show me your Driver's License."  This last request took them 
by surprise.  The woman looked at Fuller before searching in her purse.  
She handed over her Driver's License. Mr. Gerber took out a notepad 
and wrote down her name, Mrs. Patricia Wallington, and address.

"What's your telephone number?"
She gave it to him.  He returned her Driver's License.
"Before you leave give us $10 to pay for our coffee."
The woman took a $10 bill out of her purse and handed it to Mr. Gerber
as she rose to leave.  After the woman left, Fuller spoke first.

"Well, what do you think?"
"It works.  It works much better then I imagined."
"Is it worth the price?"
"Absolutely.  I just wish I had this drug when I was a teenager."
"Then it's a deal?"
"Deal." said Mr. Gerber.

When they shook hands, Gerber sprung his surprise.
"But I need the formula."
"You want the formula too?"
"Yes."
"But a 10 gallon supply should last you a lifetime."
"I have a strong libido,"  smiled Mr. Gerber.
"But you only need a few drops."
"I intend to live a long, long time."
"You took the woman's Driver's License for a follow-up session
didn't you?"
"Yes.  Before I'm done with her she'll be begging me for mercy."
"You insist on the formula?"
"Yes.  It's the formula or no deal."

Fuller shrugged his shoulders in resignation.
"OK. Let's do it."

They returned to their cars.  Mr. Gerber removed the plastic
water jugs from the trunk fo the rusty blue Chevy, and Fuller
took the briefcase of money from the trunk of the black Jaguar.
The last thing Fuller did was hand him a computer disk which
contained the formula.  Before Fuller could even get back into
his car, the Jaguar had pulled away from the curb and disappeared
into the late afternoon traffic.

A few minutes later, the white Lincoln Continental parked behind 
the blue Chevy.  Fuller slipped into the rear passenger door. 

"Mind if I ride with you Mrs. Wallington?" Fuller asked keeping his
voice formal and proper.
"Did you get the money?" she asked as the Lincoln Continental drove
away leaving the stolen Chevy for the police to tow.
"Yes."
Fuller unsnapped the briefcase displaying $400,000 in bank wrapped
$100 bills, and closed it.
The very proper Mrs. Wallington broke out in giggles.
"My God!  Where do you find them?"
"The teaspoon was a bit much," Fuller admitted.
"Filling their heads with fantasy nonsense about Hard Candy."
"It's more then a fantasy."
"Stroking his cock beneath the table like a naughty boy."
"It's not nonsense."
Mrs. Wallington broke into a smile.
"That jerk made me pay $10 for his coffee."
"Hard Candy is real."
Mrs. Wallington shook her head in mock amazement.  Suddenly, 
she stopped and her face grew serious and broke into a frown.

"If Hard Candy is real why didn't you give it to Gerber?"
"Because I gave him jugs of water."
"No, why didn't you just drug Mr. Gerber's coffee and order him
to give you the money?"
"That would be dishonest."
"And what were doing isn't dishonest?"
"Not really."
"How can you say that?"
"Mr. Gerber really got what he paid for."
"Which was?"
"Control over women."
"You mean he got Academy Award Acting by yours truly."
"You weren't acting."
"Like hell!  I was acting my ass off."

Fuller reached into his right jeans pocket and took out the small
clove oil bottle.  He held it up for her to see.
"This is just water.  Mr. Gerber really did dump Hard Candy into 
your coffee."
She stopped smiling.  "You're joking, aren't you?"

Without answering her question, Fuller held both her hands and
looked directly into her eyes.

"It's time for you to go home to your husband Mrs. Wallington.
Expect a visit from Mr. Gerber.  This afternoon was just a preview
of coming attractions.  Tonight, the Academy Awards begin, and 
you will be the star." 
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Author Note:  If you liked this story, please look for other 
stories by Dafney Dewitt posted to Alt.Sex.Stories.

                   Donna's Humiliation
                   Bad Touching
                   Ginsu Memories
                   Morning Kisses
                   Midnight Intruder
                   Jazzercise
                   Double Bang
                   Bosnian Babes In Rapeland
                   Spare Change
                   A Long Walk
                   Disrobing Mother
                   Homeward Bound
                   Just A Bad Day
                   Insurance Exam
                   A Call For Help
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