#mind control tw

The voice itself is reedy, but assertive. The tone remains ever calm and steady, almost soothing, but there's an insistence in the words, and something about it makes her stomach churn with terror. As for what it says…Ashura knows it's not speaking a foreign language, but the words simply don't want to stick in her mind, leaving them as meaningless noise. The best she can tell is that the voice always comes back to the same phrase, over and over again. It's probably important. Whatever it is.

She wants to run away. She wants to panic, to scream, but her body won't let her, remaining asleep—or not asleep?—exactly how she is. Her limbs are too weak and heavy to even consider moving, no matter how hard she tries, and a massive weight presses down on her chest, compressing her lungs.

There's nothing she can do. There's no way she can escape. How many times has she been here? Is it still worth fighting?

Another voice suddenly cuts through, further away but louder, realer. Ashura can't tell what it's saying, either, but she grabs it like a lifeline in the ocean, reminding her which way is up, pulling herself back to the surface—

Ashura sits up in the hospital bed with a desperate, heaving gasp, curling forward into herself as her eyes sting with tears she can't place.

The only light in the room comes from a crack underneath the door, barely spreading an inch before disappearing. Devices monitoring her vitals blink red and green and yellow, but not enough to see by. She can only make out vague shapes—a TV, a chair in the corner, a curtain to her left…

"S—Surge?"

The voice is small, coming from the other side of the curtain. Ashura flinches, sitting up properly. "…That you, kid?"

"Mhm."

Again with Surge.

The fennec had flown into a meltdown when the nurses had tried to separate them, only calming down when Ashura had agreed to share the hospital room with him. When she'd asked him why he seemed so attached to her, he'd mumbled something about how he "lived to protect Surge", but when she'd tried to pry on what that meant, he'd gotten increasingly agitated until he'd shut down completely. He'd called her that name a few more times by now, and she's still no clearer on why.

It's better than he is with the doctors, though. Through every test and attempt at conversation. the kid hadn't said a word to anyone besides Ashura. Were you to look at him, you might wonder if he was even present for most of it, the way his eyes wouldn't focus and how he stared past everyone at something only he could see. He didn't struggle or complain, he did what was asked of him, but absolutely nothing more, like an empty shell.

"Did…you wake me up just now?" Ashura asks the curtain.

"S-should I not have?"

"No, it's—thanks." Ashura lets out a long sigh, stretching her arms forward as best she can without tugging on her IV line. "That was some weird nightmare."

She calls it a nightmare, but she's still not sure she'd even been asleep when it had happened. Was that what people call 'sleep paralysis'? She doesn't think she's ever experienced it before, and can't say she's eager to do it again anytime soon.

"…do you hear him, too?"

His voice is so small the curtain almost muffles it completely. Ashura stiffens. "Him?"

"Th—the voice. I don't know who it is. I-I hear it a lot."

"I heard…a voice?"

"It's close. And you don't know what he's saying. Right?"

Ashura sucks in a sharp breath. "Do you know who he is?"

"N-no." She hears the blankets on the other bed rustle. "I'm sorry…"

Why would the fennec be having the same nightmare? Even with her memories slowly piecing themselves back together, the fennec isn't in any of them, so she can't exactly chalk it up to a shared scary movie. From what she can tell, she'd barely had friends her own age, let alone one younger than her.

"…M-may I ask you something…?"

Ashura doesn't really think before responding. "Shoot."

"Who's Sonic? And why do you hate him so much?"

Ashura's brain short-circuits.

She wonders if she's wearing an expression like his, now, staring past the wall and trying to get the gears in her head to start turning again. "Why…would you ask that?" Ashura hopes her voice isn't as shaky as it sounds.

"I-I'm sorry!" The fennec squeaks, and there's another rustle.

"No, I actually want to know why."

"Um…" His voice is muffled, now, likely underneath the blankets. "You…you were talking. The same thing over and over. How you hate Sonic and want to destroy him…?"

The room feels very cold all of a sudden. Ashura yanks the blanket up to her chin with her free hand before burying both of her arms under it, but even that doesn't stop the sudden shivering. She hadn't thought she'd been talking.

"…Sonic the Hedgehog. And I don't…I don't hate him." At least thinking about it begins to shake some things loose in her head. "Actually, I'm…kind of a big fan. He's a hero. I've been following what he does since I was younger. It's not easy to get pictures of him, but he started talking to the media more recently, and he's…he's amazing."

"He is?"

"He's always helping people, wherever he goes, like it's the easiest thing ever. He's, like, the walking personification of hope. Always telling people to chase freedom, to do the right thing…He's got an attitude, but that makes him even cooler, he's always styling on his enemies and it's awesome!" Maybe Ashura's talking too fast, but the words spill out even as she recalls them, and she doesn't think she could herself if she wanted to. "He was the one always beating back Eggman, ever since he showed up. When the war happened he went missing, a lot of people thought he was dead, but nope, he just came right back and saved our asses at the last second!"

"Th-the war," the fennec says, distantly. "I think I remember the war."

"Sonic, he…he inspired me to start running, because I wanted to be as fast as him." A grim spreads across her face. "I wanted to race him someday! Sure, winning would be a stretch, but he made me want to try. And…"

Ashura cuts herself off as the rest falls in place, her expression dropping as her shoulders slump.

He'd inspired her to chase her own freedom, too. She can't say she regrets it, but she'd been alone in the world ever since.

Maybe that's why no one had come to find her.

"So why do you want to destroy him?" It sounds as if the fennec had removed his head from the blankets, at least.

"I told you, I don't. I freak out when people argue, there's no way I could destroy anything." Ashura squeezes her eyes shut, leaning back on her pillows. "It was...probably just something from the nightmare."

She wishes she believed her own words more. But something about the idea of hating him resonates in a way that makes her ill. It's not right. It's not her.

"...you okay?"

"I'll be fine." She's not sure if she's lying or not. "You should go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you up."

"If you say so," he mumbles, and she hears him settle back into bed.

There's no further sound beyond the whirr and beep of machinery and Ashura's own breathing, too loud in her ears. She'd certainly just answered some questions about herself, but she'd been given a million more regarding recent events. As much as she tries, she still can't figure out how she got on that Eggman base, or what happened over the…months she'd apparently been there.

The months she'd supposedly been in and out of stasis. Which should've left her too weak to run. Let alone at least ten miles carrying a fox on her back.

The more she finds out, the less sense any of it makes. Her finger drums restlessly on the bed, and her ears flick with something unheard.

She opens her eyes. There's a smoke detector above her, its presence indicated only by a little red light.

Ashura does not sleep again that night.

~~~

The fennec's voice rouses her again the following night, though it's not nearly as loud. In fact, as Ashura blinks her eyes open and shakes her head to try and clear it, it's barely a whisper through the curtain separating them.

"Kid? Are you awake?"

He doesn't answer. He doesn't even stop speaking, immediately raising Ashura's quills in alarm and knocking the last bit of sleep out of her.

The doctors had decided their vitals were stable enough to stop monitoring, meaning Ashura's now connected to significantly less things. They're still giving her medicine and nutrients by IV while she recovers her ability to eat real food again, so she's cautious of the line in her hand as she rolls out of bed, testing her legs before putting weight on them.

They hold, even if they shouldn't.

She reaches out half-blindly until she finds the stand holding the IV bag, pulling it behind her with as she walks around the bed. With only a hint of dread and hesitation, she throws back the curtain

It's difficult to see in the dark, but she can make out a tiny figure curled up in a ball, one hand covering its eyes. The fennec's sheets are tangled and tossed to the side, and she can see that he's trembling, violently.

"Kid?"

He doesn't stop, and now she can hear the words, muttered frantically under his breath. "…protect Surge do anything live for Surge I'd do anything for…"

Ashura's stomach drops.

Before she can think, she reaches out with her good hand, touching the fox's shoulder. "Kid!"

The fox cries out and flinches as his eyes fly open. Tears shine in the corners. "What?" he says blearily. "Su—"

"Ashura," Ashura reminds him.

"R-right, Ashura, I-I'm so sorry, I—"

"Breathe, okay?" Ashura's not sure if that's the right thing to say to him, but she remembers seeing it a lot on TV. "You're safe."

The fennec whimpers, and Ashura feels like her heart's being squeezed. He'd said he was older than he looked, but how old is that? Definitely younger than her. A teenager? Too young for whatever this is.

"…Was it the dream again?"

"Yeah."

So that must've been how she'd been talking, except with her miniature tirade about someone who should be her hero.

The fennec tries to apologize again, though Ashura doesn't know for what.

His voice breaks midway through.

Ashura makes an impulsive decision.

"Hey. Give me your hand. The one the needle's in."

The fox turns his head to stare at her, but offers his own right hand.

"Now scoot."

"Huh?"

Ashura doesn't respond, focused on climbing into his bed without yanking either of their lines out. The positioning is a little awkward, but he's so small that there's more than enough room for her once he moves over.

She has to keep their right hands held over their heads, but she's able to scoot in close to him. The moment she does, the fennec throws his other arm around her, burying his face in her hospital gown.

Ashura hesitantly pets the blue fur on his head. She can feel him shaking against her, but she can also feel when that shaking starts to still, when his breathing stops hitching.

Now she wants to apologize. Maybe this gesture will get it across for her.

After a long silence, he mumbles something into her chest she can't quite hear. "What was that?"

The fennec pulls his head away, just enough to look up at her.

"…Aoi."

"What?" Ashura blinks. "Is that your name?"

He nods, faintly. "I'd forgot."

Ashura supposes it had taken her a good few seconds to remember her own name when the bat had asked. If he really had gotten whatever had happened to them worse than she did, it makes sense he'd take longer to figure it out.

"Aoi," Ashura repeats. "I like it. It's nice to meet you, Aoi. I'm Ashura."

"I know…I know you are." Aoi returns his forehead to her chest, grip tightening on her side. "I—I don't know who Surge is. I don't even know if she's real. She's just…all I know. S-so when I saw you in that place with me, I thought you had to be her…"

"Do you remember anything else?"

"No. I…don't even know if I'm awake or asleep a lot of the time. It's like I'm somewhere else."

Dissociating, the doctors had called it. They'd said it was from shock, but Ashura's starting to think there's more to it.

"That's okay." She's still not sure if she's saying the right words for the situation, but it's better than saying nothing at all. Her mind trails back to Sonic's interviews, the accounts of him speaking to frightened survivors. What would he say? "It's okay because…because we're gonna figure all this out, yeah? The two of us, together."

Aoi sniffles. "Really?"

"Absolutely." She has to believe it, because Sonic would. Ashura holds him tighter against her. "Just you and me, kid."

"Just you and me," he echoes, snuggling in close like he wants to absorb himself into her.

It's a while before she feels him finally fall asleep again. Ashura ends up dozing herself before the door opens, the nurse having arrived to replace their IV bags. He raises an eyebrow when he sees the two of them, but Ashura quickly shushes him, not wanting to speak and disturb Aoi.

To his credit, the nurse does not ask her to return to her own bed.

Sixer had always been... a bit of a control freak. It wasn't a huge deal or anything back in the day because while Stan was rambunctious he DID know when his brother knew better and was willing to follow his brains and plans and all of that. He was perfectly content to simply punch in the direction that Stanford pointed him in.

In his more bitter moments on the road he hadn't wondered if Ford's actual anger at the science fair project thing was more for the fact that he hadn't been in control in the moment (and Stan hadn't been either but that was his own fault, Pa was right in that regard) or if Ford hadn't already been pulling away from him in the first place because He'd wanted to keep being in control of the situation-

and when his wants for 'the plan' had changed, the fact that Stan's hadn't had put him in a place where he couldn't control the situation as well. He didn't know. By that point maybe he didn't know his brother all that well at all anymore. (maybe he'd stopped knowing his brother well when he'd had to start looking away when Ford would change in their room because his throat would suddenly get dry and his heart would race, If it wouldn't have ruined everything between them Stan would have wondered if it would be a comfort to Ford to know his brother was much more of a freak than he'd ever be)

By the time he was being summoned to oregon he was well aware his brother was a different person now, it was fine, he was too. But it seemed Stanford's desire for control had never faded. It might have been the biggest screw up and mistake of Stanley's life- but if Ford was ever even the slightest bit willing to actually work WITH him it could have been avoided. It was still Stan's fault in the end though. his brother was a control freak, but that was fine- everyone had their flaws. But Ford was gentle he was always gentle.

this horror nightmare dimension on the other side of the portal- that was going to do horrible things to him and he was going to need him.

There was an odd vindictiveness to it- that for the first time, He had been in control and not Ford. He was the one that was doing something about all of this. Not his brother. If it wasn't because of his own failures, he would have called it oddly nice.

Then there came that summer, the twins, the portal working again, Bill....

and ultimately, Ford coming back.

And coming back even more of a control freak as ever. But it was okay now. They were okay now.

and Ford had smiled at him and the plan was the one Stanley had given up on but always secretly still wanted. And maybe Stan could live with being the person that just punched in the direction Ford pointed him in again.

Maybe it would be fun.

maybe being around the person Ford was now would mean that the hard thump in his chest would stop.

--

It was about two months out to sea when it happened. Stan had had a fling with a siren most recently, apparently they didn't actually mind control people, they just found out what you wanted and told you they had it until you'd go after them. He'd met a little blacksheep that wanted to talk about what SHE wanted, and Stan had been curious- but it turns out that angle was in and of itself a siren angle and he'd been dragged into the water.

Ford had been pissed beyond all beleif- he had of course warned Stan about it, freshwater sirens were mostly harmless apparently, and double apparently he'd even dated one himself in Gravity falls, but saltwater sirens were to a one maneaters. But Stan had dodged hypothermia and they sent a polaroid to the kids of him still picking kelp out of his hair to make it feel funny again.

But ford had had this weird twist to his mouth for the rest of the day, and Stan wasn't sure if it was really all THAT big of a deal because- well he'd punched out a few of the girls siren buddies, so they weren't THAT tough... but... Ford was still pretty pissed. So Stan- figured he'd better do something to make it up to his brother.

"Hey- come on Poindexter- I'm fine, and those sirens weren't nothing!" he swung an arm around Ford's shoulders and the pinch to his lip didn't fade, but his gaze did soften a touch.

and Stan figured he was PROBABLY in the clear...

"Life would just be easier if you just-... listened more Stanley..." He groaned, and Stan grinned.

"Sorry Poindexter, Im too stubborn for ya! Can't stop me unless ya tie me down!"

Ford went wierdly quiet at that.

like... WIERDLY quiet.

it should probably have been a red flag, but in that moment Stan just wondered if he was re-lancing the wound before it was ready so instead he joked again "And even then it's a 50/50 shot i'll just get back out!"

and thankfully Ford laughed again.

though Stan did feel eyes on him every so often for the rest of the day.

--

admittedly that should have been something his conman brain should have picked up on, but as it was he seemed to have blinders when it came to Ford, his brother was always surprising him.

So naturally he didn't suspect most anything at all when on a calm day still on the coast of Ireland, Ford mentioned wanting to stay 'home' rather than go to the pub in the village they were docked at.

And Stan figured he probably should hang with him as to make up for the whole 'scaring ford half to death for nearly becoming Siren chow' thing, so he stayed behind as well and while Ford was doing... whatever he was doing he'd update the sail logs. for all that it grated on Stan that they were going to have to be 'on the books' now and probably until after he croaked, if they managed to somehow end up lost at sea then the kids were SURE to recover their logs somehow and they should know if they went out figthing a kracken or running from antlantian guards or something.

"Hey Stanley-" Ford spoke up from where he was rummaging through his things, clearly looking for something. "Can you close the cabin door?"

"Huh-?" He was maybe ABOUT to complain about his knees but, eh whatever. he got up and his knees creaked ominously, but he lumbered the two steps over to the cabin door and shut it. "what's the deal, Ford? you find some contraband in there that could get us thrown out of Leprechaun territory before i can steal a pot of gold from these rubes?"

"No- I simply wanted to know if you would... like to experience something with me?" Ford pulled out a worn down looking bag full of... some irridescent shimmery looking shit-

"Did mabel send us a bag of glitter and you're about to throw it in my face?" he wondered treptidatiously, and Ford grinned, and... it looked wierdly sharp. Stan was more on guard than he perhaps should have been, (though in hindsight that possibly is what made things shake out the way they did so he was thankful for his paranoia in that moment)

"No- this is something i came across a few dimensions ago, it's a sort of pscychoactive substance that when burned releases a smoke that upon inhilation can cause a delightfully non-addicting sensation."

wait...

"Sixer are you asking me if i wanna get high with you?" ford's cheeks suddenly burned red and he coughed into his hand; and stan only took a moment to appreciate that that bashful look made his whole face soften.

"to put it crassly, i suppose, i simply have experienced such a thing before and i considered that you would appreciate such a state as well."

Then ford grinned a beseeching grin at him with that pink in his cheeks not faded yet and Stan was a weak weak man with a disgusting attraction that should not be. because he rolled his eyes and headed for his bed, because ford grinning at him like that was kind of all he needed to do whatever his twin (his TWIN he was such a sick freak that it hadn't even changed now after EVERYTHING) wanted him to.

Stan liked giving ford what he wanted- he was sure if he dug his heels in and said a firm no he'd be able to out-stubborn his brother, but he LIKED giving Ford what he wanted. So he leaned back against his pillows and threw his hands behind his head.

"Alright nerd, smoke away."

He tilted his head to watch Ford's hands fumble slightly with a box of matches that were already in his hand, and the wierd glimmery powder was already in a bowl-wow he really had already set the whole thing up before Stan had agreed, hadn't he?

that in hindsight should have been another red flag, but then the flame had gone down onto the shimmering powder- and he'd noticed that Ford had upturned the whole bag rather than portioning it out if they wanted to try this again-

but then the smoke hit the air.

it smelled... wierdly sweet- like burning Cherry wood or Apricot wood... and it WAS kind of a woodburning smell- in a weird way it sort of reminded him of the campfires they used to make when they were young.

the old neighborhood in glass shard beach had no space for a wood burning fireplace or anything, they had a squeaky radiator like everyone else who lived above their family's shop...

"Smells good-" he hummed. but when he glanced at Ford he noticed his brother seemed to already be feeling the effects, he was blinking rapidly and had lifted his hands up to cover his nose. he of course, laughed.

"You get a face full of it by lighting it off sixer?" rookie mistake, he had figured out several tricks to not get a full face of weed smoke back in the day himself, but it seemed Ford wasn't all that much of a recreational drugs person in his own portal based adventures if he made such a rookie mistake...

"No it- it smells odd..." Ford leaned back, and rather than settling onto his own bed he sat on the edge of Stan's. "oddly acrid."

"Really? smells fine to me." he gave another experimental sniff and sure enough yes, the smell of sweet woods and campfires and all of that... "What does it smell different for everyone or something? scifi nerd drugs change smell depending on the person?" he wondered, and, after a moment's pause, ford sighed.

"Yes i suppose so. It's... probably fine, as you said."

An rare concession from Ford, but a welcome one so Stan scooted to the side a bit and patted at the empty space on his bed. "come on- if you're gonna be right here when we both get high as balls on space weed then might as well get comfy."

and Ford, thankfully, listened to him and reclined next to him as they began to hotbox their cabin

For a while Stan was wondering if the damn drug would kick in yet, because he was just smelling some not unpleasent sweet woodburn smoke but he absolutely did not feel high. Not even in the way that waiting for an edible to kick in would...

though when he tilted his head to ask his brother if he'd gotten jacked by the space-dealer he'd gotten this shit from, Ford...had been effected.

His brother was turned almost entirely toward him, watching him closely, eyes dilated so far that there was only a barely visible ring of dark brown against black.

"You... doing okay Ford?" he wondered- "you want me to crack open a window?"

"No. it's fine." Ford answered, and then followed up with his own "How are you feeling?"

which- whatever. Stan Shrugged. "I mean- fine I guess. doesn't really feel like it's hitting much- you know?" Ford's brow furrowed, and he began to sit up, he looked weirdly perturbed. "What do you mean?" he wondered. and Stan, feeling weird about still reclining while Ford sat up, followed his lead and sat up himself.

"Well- i mean it smells nice, like one of those driftwood campfires we'd use to make on the beach when we were kids, but i don't feel any different. I've been high before, i know what it feels like- you know?"

"What's it supposed to feel like?" he brought up, and- for a moment Stanford looked... weirdly dodgy, looking away, pulling away from him- and okay- that wasn't a good sign. So he pulled out the boss voice. "Stanford, what's going on?"

And Ford was CONSIDERABLY higher than he was, because he folded immediately at the firm tone in his voice.

"You never listen to me. Stanley you NEVER listen to me. if you just LISTENED to me everything would be better! You almost died and everything ALWAYS goes bad when you dont just let me do the thinking im the smart one im the one that SHOULD be in control- and this is Going to - this is going to help us...!"

He pressed his hands to Stan's shoulders, and- fucking- what?

"Stanford are you trying to fucking mind control me? is this mind control shit?"

he felt his ire rising, and Ford-... maybe had thought he was trying to push him back down but he was stoned out of his gourd clearly because he just balled his fists into Stan's shirt and leaned forward a bit too much- honestly it almost looked like he was going to kiss him-

"Not- not really- well- maybe- kind of? It's... I didn't-" he looked back to the still smoking bowl. "It's... not working right."

Stan grit his teeth, and forced down his emotional reaction- he could get pissed when Ford was sober- or maybe wait to get the full explanation and then FORCE him to get lucid by throwing him into the cold irish bay.

"What was supposed to happen. What is this stuff-" he glared at Ford and his brother almost seemed to shrink under his ire. "Tell me. The truth."

Maybe the space drug was booby trapped or something because once he made it a full command, Ford's already hazy gaze seemed just... glaze over.

like all of his brain power was completely shut off but for what he needed to do to fulfil an order.

"I got it in a black market spaceport, i was considering using it for non-lethally neutralizing Bill for a time, it's a meathod of Gambling. the smoke creates a psychic link between those whom inhale it at the same time and the weakest willied will get their willpower siphoned into the stronger willed until the weaker willed could have their very reality rewritten with ease. You were supposed to be the weaker and i could use it to mean you'd stop fighting me on stupid things. And-" Ford's face twisted, in the most resistance in all of this that he seemed capable of as he was trying to bite something back from coming out of his mouth.

which was all well and good because stan slumped onto his knees and tried to keep from screaming.

Keep calm. His brother just tried to... drug and mentally enslave him- that was... it wasn't fine but clearly it didn't fucking WORK so he couldn't be TOO mad he just needed to parse out how mad he SHOULD be when Ford snapped out of this fugue state and went back to being a control freak that was so manic about being a control freak that hed try to mind control him-

"-And i could make you love me"

His eyes snapped open and he turned back to Ford, whom, if possible looked even drowsier than before, like resisting saying that had taken so much energy that he no longer had any more to fight off whatever this fucking psychic mind control drug shit was.

"....What? Ford of course i love you- you're my brother why do you think you needed to do that shit to me to love you?"

"Not like that." Ford's voice had dropped, into a drowsy monotone, like he was speaking in his sleep. "Not like a brother-"

and Stan's blood both froze over and lit aflame at once.

"....What?"

"was- was always jealous..." ford mumbled, and Stan had to press a hand to Ford's shoulder so he wouldn't topple over back onto the floor and he bonelessly flopped onto his bed. "didnt like to see you dating girls" his eyelids were fluttering now, the stupor this whole 'willpower draining' thing was putting him under was very much leaving him too tired to care about anything. like the concious mind had fully shut down and he wasn't really talking to Ford anymore so much as his subconcious.

so that was what he meant by 'the weaker could have their reality shaped'...

which was all the details he was focusing on so he didn't have to think about the fact that ford was implying- that he was saying...

that he felt the same way...

"Wanted you to kiss me instead..." he practically moaned out. And... Stan didn't know why, but he stood up, took the smoking bowl, and walked back to place it beside where ford's head had fallen.

And he didn't know why but he leaned in and started to murmur.

he had rolled with a lot of strange crowds over his ten years of homelessness, and he'd seen things. things that were used to help the women and men of the night that he'd rolled with in Chicago disassociate enough to be able to take clients they couldn't get it up for.

they wouldn't waste drugs in a city of actors. and actors meant things like hypnotists. And he wasn't really attractive enough to be easily selected unless he was someone's type, but the pimp he'd been rolling with for a bit had noticed he had a mean hook so he was sent in to watch the girls and twinks to make sure the people he paid for the time of never put anything nasty in their heads that might take away workers.

"Keep breathing, nice and deep- in.... and out... feel that smoke coming in... feel it clouding up that busy mind, feel it making everything go slower and slower, and how nice it is to feel it going slow. You're always thinking so much Stanford, about so many things, your mind is so exhausted. It feels so good to let your thoughts slow with every deep breath in. And every time you breathe out that smoke has stuck to more and more of your will and your thoughts and when you breathe out you can feel them drifting away, and coming into me-"

"And it's so so easy to just admit to things even if you didn't let yourself think about them much when you feel so smokey and good right now, Isn't that right? You can just say things you knew deep down but were too scared to say, because Your Stan's got you. And you know your Stanley can keep you safe, isn't that right?"

Ford took a deep breath, and sighed out a euphoric "yes...." and Stan figured he probably only had a limited amount of time till this will smoke stuff faded.

and...

well if Ford thought his willpower wasn't important enough to be respected- maybe it'd be justice to understand why.

"Why did you decide to use this instead of any other way to get Stan to listen to you? Why mind control?"

"I find mind control, brainwashing, hypnosis and other types of mental dominance extremely arousing."

Oh.

OH

Well fuck...

"....Is that something you always knew or did you learn it from someone?"

"Bill showed me how wonderful it can be, he was always in control and i wanted to be in control this time." of fucking course it was that damn triangle. why did everything seem to always come back to that damn triangle...

"Do you like being out of control?"

Ford shivered and Stan could see the tent starting to form in his pants. "Yes..."

Stan hummed. "Yeah i bet you would. it's probably so exhausting being the person thats always got the plans and calling the shots. i bet its REALLY nice to just get all dumb and misty and just do what people tell ya, huh?"

"Yes..."

"Say 'Yes Stanley'." he ordered and Ford gave another full body shiver, the tent in his pants growing significantly at the order

"Yes Stanley..."

"Good Boy. Every time you're a good boy and do as you're told you say 'Yes Stanley' Understand?"

"Yes Stanley."

"Good. Now... Tell me about this Will-powder" heh "does this last until its done burning?"

"No, the person whose will is drained remains in a suggestible state unless commanded awake. the psychic link doesnt go both ways, you lose your willpower to the winner and it stays theirs unless freely given back. And even then the psychic siphon remains. the winner can always take the loser's will away again whenever they please."

"Does it... hurt?"

"No... feels... so good...."

Stanford's cock was practically straining against his pants now, and Stan could feel his own stir in sympathy.

He looked away, thumb tapping against the bed as he thought about what to do-...

"Ford when you said you... didn't love me like a brother- what DO you love me like?" He- he knew technically ford had already answered but-that was in the past that was...

that was before everything...

"I want you. Want you to-... to want me... I know its... its wrong its... its taboo... I never wanted anyone else. Not Cathy Crenshaw, not Fiddleford, not Bill... not really... i only ever wanted you and... and it scared me... Even when i hated you i only wanted you back..."

well...

shit...

He spent a bit of time thinking it over. And when the smoke stopped, and he opened a window and Ford remained sprawled out on his bed, half asleep and cock straining for freedom against his pants, Stan figured Ford got generally good information...

About the drug at least...

Fords hips gave a little unconcious twitch upward and... Stan had mercy on him and took one of his heavy hands, dropping it over the bulge and watched with minor fascination as his brother's deft fingers rubbed against the restricted erection but lacked the dexterity to free himself-

At least, not without permission....

"Just keep rubbing there, Stanford" Ford moaned and his hips gave an instinctual twitch into his palming hand.

"Yes Stanley..." it came out as another heaving moan, and... damn...

He could see why Ford wanted this- this kind of control was heady... And ford LIKED control. He just... also liked being out of control. He really liked it.

And... Stan wasn't sure what to do about it-

"One more question- How do you bring will back and take it away?"

"You just tell them to think for themselves again to give it back, but to take away again you need-" Ford moaned. "You establish a trigger for them to remember at once that you possess their willpower"

establish a trigger huh? Like a codeword or something?

Or maybe...

Stan looked over at the drawer he kept some of his bedside things in and felt around until he found some thick glass. A Cologne he had stolen from a french store that was maybe the fanciest cologne he'd ever palmed from a shopping rack. it was one of those ones with the fancy sculpted glass and it even had a little squeeze bottle to spray it!

He had decided to save it only for hot dates and possibly getting to pick strangers up, so he'd yet to use it.

Until now.

"Well lets figure out a trigger for later right now, eh?" he tilted ford's head so he was properly facing upward. "Eyes open, Ford."

"Yes Stanley."

Glazed over, dilated wide, but still that same umber brown that matched his own, Ford's eyes so barely opened, staring into nothing and clearly lost in some wonderful reverie that only existed in his own mind.

Stan tilted his head back and sprayed himself with the cologne, rubbing it in a little to make sure it would get all nice and mixed with his natural body scent. "Sit up." "Yes Stanley." as if being raised up by a wire Ford sat up properly, though his eyes remained staring perpetually forward and focused on nothing. Stan took him by the back of his head, took a moment to appreciate the coarse curls in between his fingers, and pulled Stanford in to press his face up against Stan's neck. "Take a nice deep breath in. I know that smoke didn't smell all that good to you, so try this instead. that smell, of the cologne and me all at once? thats gonna be your trigger, alright? every time you smell this you're going to remember all at once that I've got your willpower. whenever you're awake you're gonna forget it, you're gonna think it's all... manmade stage stuff. Like those magicians that hypnotize the ladies in the dresses to pass the ring around them. you're gonna think you told me about how sexy you think people taking control of your mind was, and i'm providing this wierd but fun kink for you."

"When you're awake you know nothing that happens when you're like this is being done that you don't want to happen, but when you take a breathful of this, when you smell me and smell that cologne, you remember all that once that you gave your will to me. You remember that Stanley's the one that really calls the shots, even if you forget and you convince yourself that you're in control, you know deep down that he's got you on a hook..."

"And every time it'll feel just as good to know that as it does now." He grabbed Ford's hand and ground his palm against his crotch and Ford moaned out the next "Yes Stanley"

"You're such a good boy, Stanford..." he hummed, and let Ford breathe in the scent for a little longer.

But just a little longer because his own cock was getting to aching a bit from lack of attention.

he unbuttoned his jeans and his own dick let out a delightful throb when it was freed from restriction, and when he pulled ford's hand away, and his brother let out a faint whine, he chuckled.

But he thought he was maybe done with this whole thing... For all that this was an... interesting development, he didn't want a mindless thrall- he wanted ford.

"...When i wake you up, And i change your mind on something, or give you an order, you're going to have just a moment of feeling like this again, all nice and hazy and brainless, and will-less and it'll feel so so good, that even when it fades and you'll forget it happened, you'll feel so good agreeing with whatever i was saying or doing whatever i told you that you'll decide it was your idea to do it in the first place. Understand?"

"Yes Stanley."

"And every time you're a good boy and obey you'll say...?"

"Yes Stanley"

"Good Boy."

"Now- last instruction-" he properly undid ford's pants and watched his brother shake as his cock was freed from its constraints. it was turning fucking purple at the tip and some part of Stan wanted to feel the weight of it in his mouth...

Maybe later...

"When you wake up you'll be awake, but your brain will be so thoroughly consumed with lust that all that braniac Sixer thought won't come back until you cum until you can't cum any longer..."

"Like- you'll KNOW this is real, but it'll just feel like you were so lost in lust and the fact that you're living out hormonal dreams you had since your teen years is the only part that's really processing in your head."

"Understand?"

"Yes Stanley."

"Good Boy."

He ran a hand through Ford's hair, and watched him lean into him, peering at Stan with those big dilated eyes, trusting and open. Because he didn't really have any other choice.

Well- it was Ford's doing to make this whole thing happen- Stan could at least make it good for the both of them.

"Wake up now, Ford. Think for yourself again." Ford blinked once, then twice. his brow furrowed, and his pupils restricted, but the hazy look in his eye didn't fade-

and then both hands came up to press against stan's; Ford not just tilting his head into the grip but practically nuzzling into it.

"Stan..." there was a pained sort of strain in Ford's voice, an almost terrified desparation...

"Stanley i- please-" Ford leaned in, and Stan pulled away from him a bit,just to see what would happen- turned out what would happen was that that sci fi survivalist shit would kick in because Ford growled and threw himself forward, pushing stan back until he was straddling him.

"Dont you run away from me-" Ford growled, and-

okay yeah he was JUST starting to see the appeal of being in control he wasn't all too keen on getting rid of it now.

"Nah, you're going to let me take the reigns on this one, Poindexter." Stan began to get back up and sure enough Ford's conviction flickered near immediately-

and to be safe he added on- "You WANT me to call the shots on this one, Stanford."

and for a moment Ford's entire demeanor changed, his eyes hazing over entirely and staring into nothing as lids sank down to half mast and he robotically answered back-

"Yes Stanley" Before shaking it off quickly, and, as if he hadn't thought of anything else but for this to be the endgoal, ford went from straddling him, to throwing himself into stan's lap.

"Please-" he whimpered, bringing his hips as close as he could without actually touching Stan's cock with his own.

"Stan Please- i can't- i- i need- I need you..."

it was then that Stan took pity on his poor will-less brother. Stan chuckled and wrapped one hand around ford's sharp hip bone and pulled him as close as he could get, and with the other, he reached between them both and grabbed hold of their cocks, Ford's was leaking so much precum he didn't have to worry about lube.

"Good boy-" He cooed and Ford moaned, jerking his hips harshly into Stan's hand.

they were a couple of old men, they could probably only go a surprise round once, so when Ford moaned his name a few more times, and came so hard some of the drops splattered on the wall behind the both of them, Stan figured his brother would be tapping out quickly thereafter-

only for Ford to surprise him greatly when it was clear both that Stan was not spent himself, nor was he particularly sated.

a six fingered hand wrapping around his dick was one that only existed in his wildest horniest fantasies, but that face, both similar to his and so different, slowly going down- down- down, until that wet hotness of a mouth encoumpassed him, was so out of his imagination that he couldn't really believe it was happening.

Burying hands in that curly hair and thrusting into a willing, delighted mouth until cub dribbled out of his mouth was a fantasy that had never even been considered enough to be entertained. and yet there it was.

and by the time he was dragging ford up to give him the first proper kiss between them his brother was grinding a second erection onto his knee.

That one... he let ford stay like that. grinding against his knee like an animal, it let him watch his brother's face without splitting his attention anywhere.

the mad lustful joy on Ford's face defeated any leftover concern he might have had.

Ford's mind didn't clear until he came again, but by then he was so tired that when Stan tucked him into his bunk and whispered some instructions for tomorrow-

There had been nothing to do but hazily mumble out 'Yes Stanley' and let the feeling of being a good boy carry him into sleep.

and Stan...

Stan had some ideas.