The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Astrid was riding the music, letting her body ripple in the green-blue lights sweeping this part of the dance floor. The bobbing alien eyes on her headband were emphasizing her lithe movements, drawing attention from all around the dance floor—which was, of course, the point.

Finally, in need of a break and something cool, she worked her way off the floor, and found an empty spot at the bar.

“What would you like, vennen min?” The platinum blonde in a glittering green vest had spotted the discrete VIP pin on Astrid’s top, and came straight over.

“Vodka lime, cold glass, lots of ice, please.” Astrid looked up and down the bar as her drink was prepared. More girls than boys, which surprised her, but was pleasing. She recognized Berndt from one of the local almost-rival tech firms, and a couple of the younger town council . The younger club goers seemed to be congregating on the lower dance floor, where the beat was more frenetic, the music painfully modern, and the drinks far less sophisticated.

“There you go.” The frosted glass slipped into her hand. She pressed her phone against the proffered tablet, pocketing it when she felt the buzz of acknowledgement.

“Love your outfit,” she purred to the bartender, iring just how much of the girl’s chest it managed to show off while technically remaining decent.

“Why, thank you!” The girl grinned at her, knowingly. “I’m Åsa.”

“Astrid. I haven’t seen you around town—are you new?”

“Came up from Stavanger for this job,” Åsa itted. “I’ve never been this far north before!”

“You might want a warmer outfit for the winter—maybe a glittery hat and scarf!” Astrid said, laughing. “But right now, it looks quite lovely.“

“I love yours too,” Åsa returned. She reached over the bar to run her hand down Astrid’s side. “And an alien texture! If there were a prize for best dress, you’d have my vote.”

Someone signaled from down the bar, and Åsa acknowledged them. “Catch you later, Astrid.”

“I’ll be around,” Astrid said, slyly.

She leaned against the bar and sipped the drink as she watched the crowd dancing to the next song—a classic from A-ha. So far, she had been impressed by the club. The opening had been very well promoted and managed, the VIP channel tasteful without being overdone, and the decor was just the right balance of sci-fi and futurism without being cheesy. She wondered if they were looking for any more investors.

With her drink finished, she followed the path around the dance floor and up, along a strange wobbling corridor. Her attention was arrested by three wide transparent tubes embedded in the wall. In one, a teenager was frantically dancing to a Swedish heart throb band track, with the rippled glass floor providing a weird but cool blue uplight to her efforts.

There was an iPad embedded in the wall next to each cylinder, and Astrid peered at the first of the unoccupied ones.

“Pick a tune, dance up to the stars, save the video to your phone, 3D options... Hmmm...” She scrolled through the available songs, found one she liked, and stepped into the tube.

The cylinder rotated, and she saw to her surprise that she was—at least temporarily—trapped. However, under the eye of one of the four camera lenses in the wall was a prominent “EXIT” button, which mollified her.

The intro beat started, and the floor underneath her lit up. Astrid eased into the song, and let herself go...

A through-view of Astrid’s body, accompanied by scrolling columns of data, was on the primary display of the capsule. Dore and Remi pored over it. A secondary display showed the gyrating teenager, but had a big red X overlaid.

“Suitable age, bilateral functioning ovaries, apparently quite fit, some alcohol in her system...” Remi ticked off the checklist.

“Not fat,” added Dore, helpfully. “Ow!”

“Next time I’ll stick my finger through both your ears at once,” Remi warned. ”What is that thing on her head? Humans are so weird. Okay, let’s take her as well. That will make our quota—ahead of deadline!“

They watched the song countdown—Remi had originally tried to listen to the Terran music, in a spirit of inter-species understanding, but the discordant loud low tones had started to give her a headache. Sure enough, as the countdown reached zero, the lights dimmed, and the music faded. Their prey was left, panting, in the darkness.

“Here we go...” Dore’s hand hovered over her controls.

Astrid was very pleased with her performance. As the music faded, she heard a hum, and the cylinder started to rotate. The window to the tunnel was slowly obscured, and the empty through which she had entered—and, presumably, would exit—moved along the wall. Sure enough, green arrows in the wall, pointing in the direction of rotation, started to flash.

It was therefore startling that, just as the tunnel view totally disappeared, a bright light came from above. To her shock, she started to rise into the air, rapidly.

“What the hell! Hey!” Within a couple of seconds, the dance tube was far beneath her, and she was in darkness.

Then, the view below was cut off, and she had a sudden dizzying sensation of acceleration. She reached out with her hands and encountered what felt like plastic around and just above her—she was apparently suspended in a tube very much like the one she had been dancing in.

“This is not okay, guys,” she warned whoever might be listening. “You’ve got to warn people if you’re going to do this to them.” Realization hit her. “And... how on Earth are you making me float in the air?”

Professor Mifa was re-reading her draft responses.to the professorial committee questions, quietly pleased with her adroit avoidance of any blame. After all, she had been advised that the emotion baffles were more than adequate—if the engineers had miscalculated, then that was on them. And, frankly, they were fortunate not to be fired for what had happened to an eminent professor as a result.

Her race didn’t believe in physical locks in their working spaces, so there was no barrier to an extremely annoyed Keeper Faso making her way into her office. She looked up to see a data pad being waved in her face.

“You did a direct mind link to one of my humans?” Faso nearly hissed, discordant notes peppering her speech. “What is wrong with you? Do you have any idea of the damage you could have done to her?“

Mifa was secretly relieved that Faso didn’t seem to know about the real outcome, so cleared her throat and tried to look sympathetic. “I assure you, Keeper Faso, we took every precaution to safeguard your specimen. After all, they are a scarce and precious resource.” Silently, she wondered how the planning for Lati’s new venture was progressing.

Faso wasn’t mollified. “And don’t think I don’t know that you’ve been using the Orgasmatron on them.”

“That’s a very serious accusation, Keeper,” Mifa said, severely. “I hope you have the evidence to back it up.” Silently, she seethed—the ethics committee had banned O-tron use on humans and wolverines without prior approval, and she’d decided that they didn’t need to know. How the heck had Faso found out? One of her lab assistants?

“Do that again, Professor,” Faso snarled, “and I’ll make you regret it.“

“Are you sure you’re well, Keeper Faso?” Mifa asked solicitously. “You’re sounding almost human with these extreme emotions. Might they be contagious?”

Faso muttered something that sounded highly uncomplimentary, not to mention biologically unlikely, about Mifa’s genetic structure, and strode out.

Lati watched the three specimens floating in the capture cells. One of them—the one with the most alcohol in her system—seemed more confused than concerned, but the other two were pushing the walls confining them and growling loudly.

“Nail them,” she commanded, and the hunters quickly launched neurojack darts. All three immediately spasmed and were left floating, immobile. A second volley of darts were tuned to the visual and auditory nerves, leaving the specimens blind and deaf.

“Grab them.” She looked at the three laboratory tables, awaiting their specimens. “We’ve got limited time, so let’s make the most of it.”

She allowed herself the luxury of a few seconds watching the exterior view: the patchy Terran white clouds teasingly revealing the white, green, brown, and yellow landscapes, as her ship matched rotational velocity from well outside the geosynchronous orbit level.

The three specimens were floated out of their tubes onto the tables, and lightly secured; the neurojack darts were good for nearly twelve hours on this species. Lati worked her way along the tables, checking the alcohol level in each specimen, and injecting an appropriate top-up, calibrated by weight, mixed in with an amnesiac.

“There!” she said, with satisfaction. “No unpleasant memories of your time with us.” She turned to her assistants. “Let’s make a start.”

Astrid was first in line. The additional alcohol was already making her dizzy, and so she was only vaguely aware of her confinement. However, as something started to snake its way inside her slit, her fingertips twitched in reaction. Helpless to resist, she felt the slick intruder slide deeper into her—then an unfamiliar sensation as it started to push at her cervix.

“Too deep!” she thought, frantically. “Stop! You’re not allowed there!”

There was a brief pain as it penetrated, then a pause. A faint tingling started in her middle.

Lati watched the egg extraction with fascination. An image above the human’s abdomen showed the extraction probe penetrating all the way to the uterus, then splitting to head down the tubes. A neural stimulator placed above each ovary pulsed repeatedly, and she watched as the eggs were slowly released to the waiting probe heads.

“We’ll target twenty good oocytes per specimen,” she decided, comparing the current ship’s time, and local time at the club. “How are you getting on with the interface?”

Her assistants had been briefly confused by the headband that Astrid was wearing, especially the spring-mounted eyes on it. However, having figured out that it was detachable, they put it to one side. They delicately adjusted the updated brain connection framework to fit the specimen’s head size and shape, then fastened it in place.

“All ready,” the lead assistant reported, standing back. Her junior was peering up close at the human—an action Lati did not deem wise, even if they were properly neurojacked. While she understood the curiosity, none of these specimens had been decontaminated; everyone was wearing protective clothing, and this lab would be thoroughly sterilized once the specimens were returned, but Lati had once seen a presentation about human parasites, which had left her with nightmares for a week.

“Running the calibration now,” Lati said. Normally they would run this on all specimens at the same time, for efficiency, but this was the first attempt and so she wanted the option to adjust the settings a few times. She peered at the data that started to stream down her displays. “My goodness, humans think slowly, don’t they?”

Astrid had, in her previous time as an impressionable youth, occasionally indulged in the dried mushrooms that her less reputable friends had “found in the woods”, so she was not unfamiliar with visual hallucinations. However, when the utter blackness of her vision had suddenly lit up with roiling colored clouds that reminded her of the aurora borealis, she was on quite another level.

What was in that drink? she wondered, as a cold blue cloud wrapped itself around her. A sudden sensation of irrational fear—terror!—invaded her, but in her paralysis all she could do was stare into the hallucination, feeling her heartbeat speed up in reaction.

Little waves of pink-red started to lap at her. She started to feel irritated at this weird situation. No—not irritated, actually angry. Why was this happening? She was a successful startup owner. How dare they—who were ‘they’—treat her like this? Her head started to feel warm as blood pumped into it, and adrenaline squeezed her periphery. The waves became crimson, and every time they hit it, it was if she had been slapped in the face—unconsciously, her teeth clamped together, narrowly missing her tongue.

A wash of yellow-green covered her, and it was if her inner ear had been poked by a cattle prod. Suddenly her body was spinning, faster and faster, but somehow her view was staying the same. This didn’t make any sense. This... Oh no, no... The taste of bile started to come up from her throat.

Lati’s assistant Domi had noted the tensing jaw in the specimen and, curious, moved over to its head to examine the phenomenon. She was, therefore, directly in the blast radius when immobile Astrid spewed vodka and partly-digested hors d’oeuvres from her mouth.

The aliens were briefly paralyzed by the unexpected phenomenon, and then reacted to the sight, sound, and smell by turning away in disgust. Domi, however, appeared thunder-struck. She simply stood there, human vomit covering most of her protective clothing.

Lati was the first to recover, hitting the pause button on the sensory stimulation. “Oh, for the love of... Domi, get the specimen’s airway cleared. If she inhales that stuff, she’ll be dead in a week. Reso, get Domi cleaned up once she’s done.”

Domi finally managed to find her voice. Holding up her spew-covered hand in horror, she managed to squeak “It’s dissolving my gloves! What do I do?”

“Acid with that proportion of free hydrogen ions? Yes, it will do that.” Lati glared at her hapless assistant. “Personally, I’d have worn the heavy arm coverings that, oh, I seem to recall, I told you all to wear, but apparently they were inconvenient.” Reso was frantically spraying Domi with distilled water in an attempt to wash away the acid, and chunks of Terran food. “Meanwhile, that specimen is about thirty seconds from permanent damage to its respiratory system. We need to return it intact, but I have no such instructions about you, Domi, so clear that airway or, I swear, I will drop you in the middle of the club dance floor, and you can end up in a Terran zoo for all I care. Fix it!”

She threw a suction hose to Domi, who—with revulsion clear on her face—ran it into the specimen’s mouth. After frantic pushing, prodding, and pulling, the hose started to clear of the semi-liquid ejecta. Reso helpfully sprayed more water onto and into the specimen, and Domi frantically worked to clean away all the detritus.

Eventually, an exhausted Domi climbed down from the table, peeled off her partly-dissolved protective gear, and headed for the door.

“If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the showers,” she said, wearily. “For the next year.”

As Reso scurried to help her friend, Lati groaned, rubbing her head. What an inauspicious start!

“Give her another dose of amnesiac,” she said, glaring at the insensible blonde. Despite Domi’s efforts, the post-digestion smell still clung to her like an adhesive fog.

“I didn’t realize field work would be this glamorous,” mumbled her remaining assistant, shortly before she squeaked in discomfort.

Lati withdrew her finger and rallied herself. Professor Mifa had put her in charge, and now was when she could demonstrate that such trust was well placed.

“I’m not doing anything more with this one,” she decided. “We’ve got the full quota of oocytes, at least.” She flicked a control, and the probe silently slid out of Astrid’s sex.

Lati fished an O-tron out of an electronically locked cabinet and placed it on top of the strange textured clothes which this specimen was using to cover its sexual organs. She tapped in a program selection from memory. “Enjoy yourself!” A quick tap on the framework still covering its head, and it silently broke into pieces. She indicated to the remaining assistant to dispose of them.

She moved to the second specimen, staring blankly at the ceiling. “You’d better be a lot more cooperative,” she warned, peering at the creature’s face.

Reso came back into the space, wearing fresh—and more robust—protective gear. “Domi will be fine. What do you need, Lati?”

Lati stared at the creature for a while. “Reso... you saw the metal implants on the first specimen, didn’t you?”

“In the lobes of its ears? Yes, but I don’t know what it signifies. Social status, maybe?” Reso peered at the second specimen. “Oh, my. I have no idea what all that extra metalwork is even for.“

Lati quickly ran a scanner over the human. “That’s not the half of it.” She carefully pushed the specimen’s very brief cover up above its mammary glands. The aliens stared at the sight in silence.

“That has to have hurt,” Reso said finally.

“You think? How about this?” Lati lifted the tight elastic fabric covering the specimen’s sexual organs. An extremely narrow piece of fabric completely failed to cover the pieces of gleaming niobium-plated metal that were now visible.

“Excuse me...” Reso’s tiny legs made a run for the door, but didn’t quite make it.

Lati did her best to ignore the background sounds, and hit her communicator. “Dore?”

“How are things going, Lati?” The hunter’s drawl always annoyed Lati, but today she had crossed from annoyance into actual anger.

“We’ve got good sensors on the retrieval pod, don’t we?” She tapped her foot.

“Very good,” Dore agreed, cheerfully. “We know more about the specimens before we grab them, than they do themselves.”

“Then why, pray tell,” asked Lati, sweetly, “do I have a specimen here with so much metal in it that it’s practically a cyborg?” She glared at the insensible human. “And, I don’t believe that humans actually grow their fur bright blue. Do you?”

Dore was silent for a while. “Does it matter, though?” she said, hopefully. “I mean, you’re only using the brain, so as long as you can get the interface onto her head, it doesn’t matter what color the hair is, or how much metal the creature has decided to stick in itself. Does it?”

Lati was finding it difficult to remain calm. “Dore, I do believe you were there when Professor Mifa was briefing us. Do you recall her saying something about looking for healthy, fertile, representative human females? Precisely what is representative about a specimen that not only colors its fur, but has apparently willingly decided to impale itself with random chunks of metal? Are you following me, or do I need to draw you a picture?“

Dore started to splutter something, but Lati cut the channel before the hunter could say something even more stupid.

“I’m not using the O-tron on you,” she muttered to the blue haired girl. “Goodness knows what it would do with the metal you have down there. Let that be a lesson to you! And I definitely don’t want your oocytes in our genetic foundry...”

“Let’s hope that you, at least, won’t cause any trouble,” she sighed, turning to the remaining specimen. This one sported long black fur that was twisted into an elaborate pattern around her head. Lati had no idea what was holding it in place, but she could sit the interface framework over the top of it, so she wasn’t that worried.

With the oocyte collector installed, the interface connected to the specimen’s brain, and a greener-than-before Reso watching the creature, Lati retook her seat at the console and started to run the program. The first few thought pulses seemed to go through more or less as expected, and Lati was starting to relax... when several strange readings started to pop up on the display.

“What is up with you?” she muttered. She tried a few pure thought impulses in sequence, and blinked at the unusual-shaped responses. “Reso, could you get a blood sample from this one? Actually, get it from all three of them.”

“Yes, Lati.” Reso took something that looked like a pen tipped with a soft rubbery oval about two inches side, and pressed it to the neck of the blonde for a few seconds, making a quiet hiss. She did the same with other two, each impression making a small red bruise on the skin.

Lati pulled up a spectrographic comparison. The first two samples were very similar, but the third... “What is that?” She isolated the delta, and pushed it into the chemical viewer. “Benzene with methylenedioxy groups... Oh, damn it. I know what this is.“

“Something from the creature’s food?” enquired Reso, watching the oocyte retrieval counter.

“Hardly nutritious,” said Lati drily. “No, it’s a psychoactive for humans. I bet this one’s body temperature is hotter than the others.” She checked. “Bingo. That’s why its readings are all over the place.“

She placed her head in her hands. “There we go, Reso, a shutout. Zero for three.” Internally, she was forecasting the discussion with the Professor, and not liking how it was going to go.

“What do we do now?” Reso asked.

“Do? Follow the plan. Give these specimens back to Dore and Remi to return, hoping they won’t make a wolverine’s breakfast out of the task, then we can rethink the plan for our next attempt. In the meantime—I have a pounding headache, Reso, so you can take over. Kindly to remove the O-tron before we return the blonde.”

Astrid shook her head, opening her eyes. She felt very strange—drunk, yes, but something else was different too.

“Are you okay?” A pretty girl, Finnish by her accent, shook her shoulder. Astrid stood straight, realizing that she’d been leaning against the carpeted wall of the corridor.

“These are fun, aren’t they?” the girl chirped, pointing behind her. Astrid looked over to see the exits of the three dance tubes. Of course! She had been dancing... Oh crap, had she saved the video? She didn’t , but she could tell she was pretty far gone. She pulled out her phone and, after a couple of false starts, got past the lock screen. There it was—a new video saved in the gallery, from... fifteen minutes ago? Oh well. At least she’d captured it.

“Yeah, pretty good,” she said to the girl, rallying. “A great idea!”

She adjusted her dress, and set off down the corridor to the dance floor. Peering over at the bar, she saw a flash of green glitter, and—over-carefully—picked her way through the dancers. This time she took one of the tubular steel bar stools with arms, rather than rely on her balance and lean against the bar.

Åsa quickly spotted her, and popped up in front of Astrid within a minute. “How’s it going, honey?” She looked Astrid up and down with an expert eye. “Been having fun?” She raised an eyebrow as she saw the hickey on Astrid’s neck, but made no more comment.

“Maybe too much,” Astrid itted. “Diet Coke with ice?”

“Excellent choice!” Åsa agreed. “You just sit there and take it easy.” She winked, and carefully adjusted her vest. “Another half hour until we close. Enjoy the view.”

Astrid sucked her teeth, and made a face. It tasted like there had been a party in her mouth three days ago. She accepted the Coke from Åsa gratefully, and swilled it around her mouth to try to shed the sour taste.

“No specimen data?” Professor Mifa unconsciously gripped the arms of her office chair as she leaned towards the image of a sheepish-looking Lati.

“Not yet, anyway,” Lati apologized. “I’d expected a couple of unanticipated difficulties, but not to this degree... I’m sorry, Professor. Still, we now know how to avoid these problems with the next batch, in three Terran days time.”

“Well, I hope so.” Mifa sighed, pinching her nose. “How are those idiot hunters working out?”

“Honestly, no worse than my lab assistants.” Lati cast a glare at Domi, just off screen.”

“At least you haven’t been compromised to the humans,” said Mifa. “At least, I hope you haven’t...”

She closed the connection and sat back in her chair. Patience did not come naturally to her, and it was not something she regarded as a virtue in any event. Clearly it was time to go back to the existing specimens in her control—and if Keeper Fsso didn’t like it, too bad. Science had to progress!