The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Caitlin and Vanessa gaze confusedly at the detainees occupying the cramped cells in the facility. The pair sit comfortably as the winds buffet the small oval craft guiding them through the panoptic arena. From their perch high above, the prisoners look like drugged bees in a giant colony. Very drugged bees.

The metaphor is anything but.

“Do we have to wear these damn glasses?” Caitlin frets.

“It’s the only thing that will protect us from the mind control.” Vanessa shoots back.

“You’re making this all up, aren’t you?”

Vanessa doesn’t respond.

“I heard so much about places like this when I was stationed onboard the Darwin,” She glances around. “I always imagined there would be more yelling and screaming...”

“What’s the point? It looks like a glorified pleasure palace.”

“More like an VR den,” Vanessa brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I’d rather be on ice than endure an hour inside here.”

“I don’t understand why they don’t just put them in stasis or cold storage. Or just shoot them.”

“You know what they say, one man’s hell is another man’s...”

Vanessa shoots a look.

The craft speeds through a corridor before slowing to a crawl near a narrow corridor. A pair of guards assist Caitlin and Vanessa as they climb out of the craft. They flirt with the officers as they proceed through a series of checkpoints towards through a series of checkpoints. A nude woman smiles on the monitors overhead as she proclaims the joys of life under the Vang. The words come out robotically, her empty, vacant eyes staring directly at the camera. Her monotone voice is devoid of feeling or emotion. There is only the repetition of words like submit and obey, as though they were part of her mantra. It is Orwellian propaganda at it’s finest.

Vanessa looks away.

“Let’s focus on our mission. We get in, do our business and get out. No heroics.”

When a guard finally ushers them into the holding pen . A pair of inmates sit silently in a corner of the windowless room as they stare off into space. Judging by the expressions on their faces, they’re more present in body than spirit. They shift occasionally in their metal seats, glancing only at the wall.

“That has to be them...” Vanessa points at the Asian and strawberry blonde, respectively.

Caitlin and Vanessa pull up seats as they stare at the couple.

“Captain Lee? Nikki? It’s me, Vanessa.” Vanessa speaks softly. “Do you remember me?”

Captain Lee doesn’t respond.

“Captain Lee?”

The captain lists her head. A trickle of drool trickles down the corner of her cheek towards her leg.

“Captain?”

Vanessa glances at Caitlin.

“She’s out of it,” Vanessa shakes her head. “I don’t know what the Vang have been up to, but whatever it is it isn’t good.”

There has to be a way to get them out of here. If only she had a plan...

“We have to get them out of here.”

“With all those guards waiting for us outside?” Caitlin protests. “Do you want us to end up like them too?”

“Shh,” Vanessa lowers her voice. “They can hear us.”

Captain Lee suddenly clasps Vanessa’s hand. The firm yet gentle grip takes the former medical researcher by surprise. A faint spark appears in the captain’s eyes, but Vanessa doesn’t know whether it’s purposeful or just the reflection in Lianna’s eyes.

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Caitlin is dumbfounded. “I think she’s trying to tell us something...”

They lock eyes briefly, and for a moment there’s a glimmer of the old captain—the intelligence, the wit, .

“Captain?” Vanessa squeezes her hand. “It’s me, Vanessa. Do you remember me”

Captain Lee looks away.

“Vang cock...” She murmurs. “Vang cock...Vang cock...Vang cock...”

“What’s she’s saying?”

“I don’t know.” Vanessa looks on. “It sounds like nonsense. It could be a phrase or it could .”

“Ask her.”

“Captain?” Vanessa adopts a sympathetic stare. “what does Vang cock mean?”

Captain Lee slowly guides Vanessa’s hand towards her crotch.

“Vang cock...” The captain continues. “Vang cock...Vang cock...Vang cock...”

“It appears to be some sort of trigger.” She observes. “It’s probably part of her reprogramming...”

If this is how Captain Lee is behaving, Vanessa can only imagine what Anna must be going through... She quickly pushes the thought out of her mind. In a split second, she makes up her mind to sneak the Captain and Nikki out. But how to do it without raising suspicion?

“Do you have the access card to the VIP suite?”

“Yeah, why?”

“We’re taking them with us.”

“Oh, hell no.”

“It’s only until the CSF arrive. After we relocate Anna we can teleport back to the Orion and get out before the fighting breaks out.”

“And what if we get caught?”

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take.”

“For a kid, you got big brass ones.”

“Are you in or out?”

Caitlin takes a deep breath.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

Cheers fill the arena as Anna and Dana face each other. The sound of hollers and cat-calls echo in the dimly lit ampitheater as they stare eye-to-eye. Their faces are scared. These are not the kickass rebels of a few weeks ago. These are frightened teenage girls.

And they really, really want their mom back.

Symbiote cloth clings to their bodies as they stretch. Sweat wicks away from their skin as they prepare. From the internal temperature of their suits to their ever beating hearts, there is little the living tissue inside their bodysuits do not monitor. Yet despite their comfort, this is not a fight they want.

Yet they have no choice but to do battle.

A prisoner playing referee steps into the oval ring.

“You know the rules,” She looks them over. “One points for nip slips, two points for crotch grabs, three points for nudity. First to go down loses.”

The sisters nod.

Their red and black suits shimmer as they circle each other, looking for an opening. Eyes narrow and noses flare. Their footwork is cautious and hesitant. Feet scuffle the mat as they revolve around each other like planets in orbit. It is more theater than wrestling.

The audience grows restless.

Anna moves in first, grabbing her sister in a headlock. The sisters grapple briefly before breaking off, only to circle each other once more.

“Are you trying to kill me?” Dana grits her teeth.

“You heard what the man said. The winner of this match walks away a free woman.”

“This isn’t about freedom. He’s just using us as T and A for these guys. We might as well be in a circus.”

Dana charges towards her sister. A swift knee to the stomach stops her in her tracks. She gasps for air as she doubles over.

“Look who’s crying now?” Anna taunts her.

Before her sister can even respond, Anna grabs her from behind.

“On your feet!” She growls.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving the audience what they want.”

Anna grabs Dana’s suit, revealing a pair of perfectly round breasts.

“Get a look, boys...” Anna teases her sister’s nipples

The crowd goes wild as she traces Dana’s breasts and stomach. The suit melts away as her fingers creep lower and lower, revealing Dana’s supple skin. She stops just short of her sister’s pubis. It is nothing short of embarrassing for Dana. She squirms in agony.

The tables suddenly turn as Dana tosses her over her shoulder.

“OW!” Anna lands on the mat with a loud thwack.

“1..2..3...” The referee calls out. “4...5..6...”

Anna pulls herself to her feet.

“You forget I’m bigger than you,” Dana admonishes her. “What are you, a hundred and twenty soaking wet?”

“It’s not like I have a choice...”

“You’re lucky we’re related. Otherwise I would’ve squashed you like a bug.”

“Don’t patronize me!”

“You don’t have to play their sick game, Anna. Let me help you. We can get through this together.”

“I’m not your little sister anymore,” Anna glares. “I can make my own decisions.”

She charges toward her sister. Her efforts are rewarded with an armlock as Dana spins her around. Dizzied and disoriented, Anna collapses onto the floor. She struggles to get her bearings for what seems like an eternity.

Her ears fill with the sound of hoots and hollers. She looks on in horror as her sister straddles her. Her eyes glean devilishly. Suddenly, her face is less angelic. Anna squirms.

“Wha—what are you doing?”

“Giving the people what they want...” Dana grins.

Anna struggles to wiggle free. Her efforts are in vain as her sister pins her down. It’s Anna’s turn to feel squeamish as her bodysuit shrinks, exposing her to hundreds of Vang.

She pleads with her eyes as her sister feels her up. What neither of them know is that planted in the air ducts are tiny sensors pumping pheromone gas. Oxytocin races through their brains. The taboos they built up in their heads slowly fade with their suits, which only excites the crowd more.

“Mmmmmm...” Anna moans as her sister pelts her with kisses.

“Shh...” Dana nibbles her sister’s ear.

Lips smack in an embrace as they kiss. Tongues wrap around each other and break off in sensual dance as they caress each other. The audience fades away in their embrace. There is only the two of them, which will soon become one.

Dana breaks away suddenly.

“Don’t stop,” Anna whimpers. “Please.”

“Submit to me,” Dana says lustily. “it’s the only way.”

Anna hesitates. A tiny voice in the back of her head screams no. Yet what is the point? Why fight a good thing, when she can just linger and moan and ohhh...

“Will it make them go away?” She nods at the audience.

Dana nods.

“I love you, Sis.”

They grind against each other for several minutes. Moans become cries. Chests heave and breaths become shallow. A third voice adds itself to the mix as the guard climaxes from self-pleasure.

After several minutes of juices mingling and converging into deltas on their thighs, the competitors collapse into blackness.

And the crowd goes wild.

“Blue Angel, Blue Angel, what’s your twenty, over?”

“Copy Mother Hen. Target is in sight. Should I engage?”

“Negative Blue Angel. Hold your position. What’s its status?”

“Wavelengths appear to be static, sir. It doesn’t appear to be moving at all.”

“Roger Blue Angel. Over and out.”

The CSF pilot grips his joystick as he stares anxiously at the orb in his crosshairs. The colors flicker and dim as it calmly hovers in deep space, completely oblivious to the fleet of fighters and gunships looming in the distance. It’d be so easy to get a lock on it and blow it away...

The pilot takes a deep breath. Beads of sweat roll down his face as recycled air circulates throughout his suit. The stuffiness of it is bad enough. Nevermind having to sit upright in a glorified coffin for several hours. His legs and butt ache.

But such is the life of a CSF officer.

He stares at the craft for several more minutes. His lidded eyes begin to droop. His mind wanders. He thinks about his wife and kids. His eldest daughter would be eighteen now—just in time to be conscripted into the reserves. He’ll be going through the same process with the middle one two years later. The thought of watching them go off to war terrifies him.

He drifts off to sleep, dreaming of one last father-daughter dance in before reality snatches them from his grasp...

The sound of squawking static wakes him from his reverie.

“Blue Angel, Blue Angel, are you there?”

“Roger Mother Hen. Nothing’s changed.”

“Put MAWS on standby. Be ready to engage on my signal.”

“Affirmative, Mother Hen. At your mark...”

The latest breakthrough in the war against the Vang, MAWS, or Multiple Airborne Wavelength System, is the inside straight of military gambles. A glorified microwave radio on steroids, like the dishes of old, MAWS relies on the principal of propagating waves to transmit signals. But rather than being used to transmit music to a receiver, MAWS takes things one step further. By harnessing power through a series of peer-to-peer nodes embedded in the weapon’s hardware, in much the same way networked computers were once used to search for intelligent life, pilots using MAWs are able to collectively harness sonic energy to direct it on a single point. Like say...an enemy ship.

In a nano second, any object in the vicinity of MAWs would be rendered useless. Communications equipment, cloaking devices, even anti-spacecraft weapons would be made redundant. If stealth is the objective, it is the perfect weapon.

And the best part is, it’s miniturized. Just install the box, make the necessary adjustments, and it’s good to go. Isn’t technology grand?

The pilot could feel the sweat pooling down his body as the weapon charges. The cockpit becomes more humid as the ship warms up. His hands are clammy. He feels like throwing up.

His finger hovers over the trigger. He spies a carrier in the corner of his eye. The battlefield of space crawls with CSF.

“On the count of ten,” Mother Hen radioes. “9...8...7...6...”

“5...4..3..2..1...”

The symphony ships fire all at once in a silent attack. The orb flickers and dims. The flickering intensifies as the orb’s greenish hue gives way to glints of gunmetal and steel. The pilot is slackjawed.

“My God...it’s metal. All of it is metal.”

“What’s the damage?”

“Shields appear to be completely down,” a colleague radioes. “I’m getting no pulses.”

“Good,” Mother Hen replies. “PCs, move in position. Gird your loins everybody—we got souls to save.”