The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Day eleven...

Major-General Maxine Johnson walked into the mess room, her grey-brown hair worn in a short, no-nonsense style, her combat kit immaculate and her eyes boring into the Colonel like lasers. “The sortie carried out by that inept firm of civvy contractors was a total disaster which is why you were sent in to salvage something out of the shambles. It didn’t work so now we need to re-think our approach.”

It was a sort of Pavlovian reflex that caused Mil to jump to her feet in the presence of the very senior officer, her training kicking in even before her brain had fully ed the situation. The Colonel was slower to react, his surprise evident in the way his tea sloshed over the side of his mug as he followed suit. The other two, however, due to their ingrained Guards Brigade backgrounds were on their feet and at attention ahead of Mil.

The General gestured for them to sit once more, which they did. “Now,” she began, her voice like a scalpel, “so this is the unit: the newly reactivated 1st SRU?” She took the vacant chair at the end of the table and waited while the drone acting as mess steward poured her a mug of stewed army tea.

1st SRU? Mil thought cynically. So they are calling us the First Special Reconnaissance Unit, wow!

The General smiled at the silver creature and thanked her before turning back to the colonel. “Okay, Gerald, please tell me what you were trying to achieve last night. When I arrived for a snap inspection, I was informed that you were out on a recce so I take it that you’ve been personally observing the local Hive and the electronics factory that it operates on behalf of the Ministry of Defence?”

Mil sat up straight, the shock coursing through her like a bolt of lightning. Her eyes widened. “Ma’am!” She managed to croak, her voice hoarse with disbelief. “Are you saying that International Electromatics is government-owned? That the Hive is working for the MoD?“

The General took a sip of her tea, her expression unreadable. “In a roundabout way, yes.” She finally itted. “The Hive is an... asset we’ve been utilizing for some time. They’re a bit of a wildcard, but their efficiency is unparalleled and the overheads are miniscule when compared with a conventional workforce.”

“But, they’ve just kidnapped and assimilated two of my personnel!” Carter snapped, his face flushed red with anger.

Major-General Johnson’s expression remained calm and measured. “Colonel, let’s not forget the facts.” She stated, setting her mug down with a firm click. “You didn’t take over this operation until after the two operators were detained by the Hive. I realise that you feel responsible for them but their loss was down to civilian incompetence. I take it that you have attempted to retrieve them?”

Carter nodded, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “Unsuccessfully, Ma’am.” He itted sadly. “We made and spoke to one of them but were unable to effect a rescue.”

The General’s expression softened slightly. “Thank you for your efforts.” She said, her voice tinged with something that might have been genuine sympathy. “What you are about to learn will be difficult to digest, but it is essential that you all know just what is going on.”

The two drone stewards served their breakfast with meticulous care, the clink of cutlery against the plates echoing in the tense silence of the room. The smell of eggs, bacon, sausage, and fried bread wafted through the air, a stark contrast to the warm, musky odour of the drones themselves. Mil felt a pang of hunger but couldn’t bring herself to eat, her stomach in knots as she awaited the General’s next words.

“Tell me everything.” Major-General Johnson instructed, her gaze piercing each of them in turn. “Leave no stone unturned, you first Staff-Sergeant Perkins, I believe that you are closer to a member of the Hive than anyone else here.”

Mil took a deep breath, recounting her encounter with Alwena, her voice tight with emotion. She described the drone’s affection, her sense of belonging, and the disturbing yet undeniable individuality that she displayed. The General listened intently, her face imive as she digested the implications.

Then Johnson’s gaze remained unwavering, her eyes boring into Mil’s soul as if trying to discern the truth from a lie. “And you believe these... feelings, are genuine?” She asked, her tone slightly sceptical.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Mil said firmly, meeting her gaze. “I believe the drones are more than just remote controlled women. They’re more like volunteers: the Hive provides them with something that was lacking in their lives.”

The Colonel leaned back in his chair, his eyes on Mil. “And what of my daughter, Sally?” he asked.

“I... I don’t know, Sir,” Mil itted, her heart heavy. “I’d like to think that we can rescue her. But having listened to her and to other drones, well somehow I don’t think it would be a rescue.”

The General took a moment to consider her words before speaking. “Staff Perkins is right. We shouldn’t try to force them to leave if they don’t wish too. But we can’t ignore the implications of what’s happening here. If the Hive can make people genuinely happy in their servitude, it undermines everything we thought we knew about human nature and freedom.”

The Colonel nodded, his jaw tightening. “We have to find a way to communicate with them, to show them that there’s more to life than what the Hive offers.” He said, his voice a mix of anger and despair. “We have to save them from themselves.”

“But that’s not a job for the army, Gerald.” The General answered quietly. Then as a drone approached she fell silent.

She waited for the drone to refill their mugs with the strong, dark tea that seemed to be a staple of the safe house’s menu. The drone’s movements were fluid, almost graceful, a stark reminder of the humanity that people assumed had been lost to the Hive.

“How big do you think the Hive is?” Major-General Johnson asked once the drone had retreated from the room. Her voice was calm, but the question hung heavy in the air.

Colonel Carter, his hand shaking slightly, took a deep breath before speaking. “Big! The official figures suggest eight to ten thousand.” He replied, his eyes flicking to Mil and the two former guardsmen. They had all been briefed on the supposed size of the enemy they were facing and nodded their agreement.

Johnson’s smile was grim as she shook her head. “Not even close,” she said, the words dropping into the silence like a lead weight. “Best estimates give numbers of around a quarter of a million.”

The room grew very quiet as they processed this revelation. A quarter of a million drones, a quarter of a million lost souls, all under the control of a single entity. Mil felt her stomach turn, the tea in her mug suddenly tasting bitter. This was not the war they had signed up for.

The Colonel’s face was a frozen mask of shock. “A quarter of a million?” He repeated, his voice hollow. “How can this be possible?”

The General leaned forward, her eyes sharp. “The Hive is more resourceful than we ever gave them credit for.” She said, her voice a low murmur. “They’ve been assimilating women for years, and we’ve been too busy arguing among ourselves over what, if anything, we should do about them.”

Mil turned to the drone just beyond the doorway, the one who had served them tea. She attracted its attention and asked. “Is it true?”

The drone’s expression remained unchanged, but her eyes flickered with something that might have been recognition. “There are now two hundred and eight four thousand three hundred and seventy eight of us, Staff-Sergeant,” she said, her voice deliberately devoid of inflection, “and we are all happy to serve humanity.”

The words hung in the air, a chilling echo of the Hive’s influence. The team exchanged glances, each one grappling with the implications of what they had just heard.

“We have to do something,” Rod said, his voice firm. “We can’t just let them control this many people.”

“But do they?” Mil asked suddenly. “I’ve spent a lot of time in the company of drones: I don’t think that they are controlled... It’s more like they’re highly motivated and acting out of common purpose... Almost as if they want to do whatever it is they are doing. I know it sounds weird, but if you can imagined a person without any angst, without any hang-ups, without any stress or anxiety even, then you’d have a drone.”

The General’s eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting that the Hive is... providing them with some sort of mental peace?”

Mil took a sip of her tea, the warm liquid doing little to dispel the cold reality of their conversation. “It’s not just peace, it’s purpose.” She said, her voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions roiling within her. “They’ve found something in the collective consciousness that makes them feel whole, that fills the void in their lives.”

The General nodded slowly, her gaze thoughtful. “So who exactly do you think they recruit?”

Mil took a deep breath. “It’s just a personal observation, Ma’am, but they seem mainly to target people who are lost, lonely, or disillusioned with their lives. the Hive provides them with a sense of belonging and direction, something many of them have never experienced before.”

“Are you suggesting that my daughter was...” Colonel Carter shouted but his voice died away leaving the sentence unfinished.

“No, Sir,” Mil said quickly, her voice tight. “We can’t make assumptions about individuals. But it’s clear that the Hive’s recruitment tactics are more sophisticated than we thought.”

CSM Travis was next to take up the baton. “I knew Jenny Darlington and Karen Whitehouse pretty well.” He began, his voice heavy with the weight of his words. “I worked with them longer than anyone else here.” His eyes searched the faces around the table, his gaze lingering on Mil for a fraction of a second too long before continuing. “They were in a relationship, happy, looking forward to a life together. And yet, the Hive took ’em both.”

Mil nodded, the memory of their friendship stinging her eyes. She had known the pair of them, had even shared intimate moments with Jenny on a couple of occasions. The thought of her friends’ lives being erased, replaced by the cold efficiency of a Hive drone, was almost unbearable.

“They were recruited.” She said, her voice low. “We went in there disguised as Hornets... According to what my girlfriend’s mum told me, the Hive treated us as if we were volunteering to .”

The room was silent, the only sound the steady tick of the clock on the wall.

The silence, this time lasted for almost a minute as they each tried to wrap their heads around what Mil had hinted at. Suddenly a soldier belonging to the small unit attached to 1st SRU entered the room.

“What is it, Corporal?” Carter asked, knowing that the man wouldn’t have disturbed them if it wasn’t urgent.

“Sorry to interrupt your meal, Sir, Ma’am,but we’ve received a flash signal from the MoD: there’s been an incident at Preston Pans.”

Two Hours Earlier...

It was just after 08-00 at the Preston Pans Psychiatric Facility and the day promised to be a warm and pleasant one;., the birds were singing and the warm summer sun was well up in the sky and the day shift had just come on duty in the security office just inside the main gate. Security being provided by “MoD Plods”, which is the army’s derogatory nickname for the Ministry of Defence Police, the MoD’s own civilian police force.

Inside the security building Sergeant Dave Harris, the man in charge of the shift, was just enjoying his first mug of tea and familiarising himself with the day’s routine on his computer screen when an excited Police Constable poked his head around Harris’s office door. “Hey, Dave, there’s a coach outside.”

Harris looked up from his workstation. “Coach? Nothing about a coach on the daily detail.”

“Well there’s one outside!” The copper said gleefully.

A small twenty-eight seater coach had indeed pulled up at the main gate. It was one of the newer electric ones, a clean and quiet one that actually worked properly. The driver, a smartly dressed young woman with a pleasant smile, reached out of her side window and pressed the intercom button.

“Good morning.” She said cheerfully. “Dr Walker’s coach.”

This was relayed to Harris who frowned as he scanned the daily detail again.

“Dr Walker?” He mumbled as he accessed the appointments log—nothing!

He walked into the duty room “No coach booking listed for today. Anybody know anything about it?”

The handful of coppers all exchanged blank looks and began shuffling through reams of paper.

One muttered about checking the computer again while another suggested calling Dr Walker’s office.

Harris, determined to get to the bottom of this, had the coach itted and parked up outside the security block. The driver entered while a couple of coppers checked the coach for anything suspicious but found nothing.

The Sergeant demanded to see the driver’s ID card and any paperwork. The woman, who was really quite attractive smiled and said. “Sure.” Before producing an MoD ID card which was valid. This was followed by the coach company’s paperwork showing details of the booking.

Harris hesitated, suspicion tightening his features even though it seemed that everything was in order.

Suddenly, a female copper entered the duty room. “I know all about this, Sarg!” She announced confidently. “Dr Walker told us yesterday. Let them through.”

But the sergeant’s copper’s nose was twitching, his thirty years’ of experience told him that this was off. He shook his head. “Without authorisation I can’t let you proceed.” His eyes narrowed. “You’ll have to hang on here while we sort this out.“

The driver shrugged and sank into a chair before someone handed her a mug of tea. She sipped it and tried to hide her amused expression as she watched Harris and a couple of the others as they scurried around checking just about every piece of paper that was lying around in the vague hope that they could find a document that had been misplaced.

Suddenly the phone rang and interrupted everything. One of the coppers picked up the receiver, and heard Dr Walker’s furious voice demanding to know. “What’s the hold-up with my coach? Why has it been sitting over by your Security office for the last ten minutes?”

The copper then gladly handed the phone to Harris: he was the one in charge so let him get his ear bent.

“We’ve no record of this coach, Doctor.” The sergeant stated firmly, his eyes drawn to the driver’s unnervingly placid face. “Standard operating procedure requires proper authorisation.”

“Then consider this verbal authorisation!” Walker snapped. “I have six patients tranquillized and ready for transfer to Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. This delay is extremely stressful for them.”

The sergeant hesitated, knuckles white on the desk. “Doctor, without paperwork... It’s a major breach of this facility’s regulations. Only you or the Director can authorise it, but I need it in writing, Ma’am.” His gaze flicked to the female constable who’d vouched for the coach; she was standing unnervingly still and smiling at the driver.

“Since I can’t leave my patients can you call the Director? I’m sure he’ll be happy to authorise everything.”

“We tried, Ma’am.” The sergeant explained. “He’s not answering his mobile or office phone. I’ve sent someone to find him.”

In response to the ime chaos seemed to erupt in the duty room as just about everyone there started to offer their advice on what should be done...

One of the older coppers suggested that they should the coach’s registration and ownership with the DVLA.

Then two of the more junior PC’s started to argue about exactly which protocols had been breached but as their views were wildly divergent the argument rapidly became heated.

Being an Englishman in Scotland, Sergeant Harris wasn’t exactly popular as a shift commander and several of the others made the most of the situation by suggesting ever-more outlandish solutions. But when somebody insisted that they needed armed backup the man on the spot slammed his fist down, bellowing for silence as, all around him the conflicting advice ceased to ricochet off the cramped duty room walls. “Better...” He muttered. “Now I can hear myself think.”

Through all of the mounting panic the coach driver and the female copper continued to smile at each other like a pair of love-sick teens while the driver’s paperwork and ID lay forgotten on the counter as the din erupted all around. It remained there until the copper who had known all about the coach picked it up and surreptitiously slipped it into her pocket before turning back to stare at the driver once more.

Several minutes later the phone rang again and one of the grinning coppers answered it and listened before attracting the desperate sergeant’s attention. “It’s Dr Walker, Sarge, sounds like she’s thought of a way out of the ime.”

Dr. Walker’s voice was surprisingly calm. “Sergeant Harris, I’ve got six heavily sedated patients with me and I cannot leave them unattended so I can’t come to you. But if you send one of your team to escort the coach to my clinic I’ll personally write out any bloody authorisation you require!”

The sergeant, jaw clenched, finally relented. “Okay, Doctor, that should work.”

He put the phone down and spotted the nearest copper who just happened to be the woman who’d originally vouched for the coach, “Okay, Wendy, escort the coach to Walker’s clinic but it doesn’t move from there until you see that written and signed authorisation.”

Police Constable Wendy Larkin nodded. “Leave it to me, Sarge!”

Then as Harris watched Larkin and the driver headed out to the coach which then moved away across the complex to Walker’s clinic. He gave an audible sigh of relief and turned to the of his team still there. “Well, that’s sorted!” He proclaimed in a very relieved voice.

Suddenly he frowned. Well I hope it is sorted... He thought, unable to still that last little nagging doubt.

Ten minutes later, the scene at the clinic was surreal. Dr. Walker—flanked by two other psychiatrists, four mental health nurses and three assistants—all female—efficiently helped the four silver drones and two other sedated female patients onto the coach. The entire party boarding, including PC Larkin and three other female MoD Plods who would act as escort just in case of trouble, as per more of the facility’s protocols.

Slowly, the coach navigated its quiet way through the network of roads that linked the widely separated buildings, the whole of the complex having been laid out to blend into the parkland that predated it. The architects had no doubt intended the rural ambiance of the site to aid in the recovery of the patients who would be resident there.

It paused briefly at the main gate and Dr. Walker climbed out, thrusting a sealed MoD envelope into a guard’s hand. “Authorisation,” she stated flatly.

The guard, distracted by the sudden arrival of a frantic duty runner shouting about the missing Director, barely glanced at it before waving the coach through. It moved off as soon as the Doctor was back on board and glided silently away down the country road before vanishing around the corner.

Back in the Duty Room, Sergeant Harris was heard to mutter. “Collapsed, you say?” To the copper who had brought him news of the Director.

“’S right, Dave, collapsed over his desk he was... been rushed into the infirmary. They ain’t sure what happened but he’s going to be kept under observation for a few days.

Harris sighed again—management was never around when you needed them! He then opened the envelope and extracted the authorisation that Dr Walker had written out. He unfolded the paper and stared at it before turning it over and muttering. “Oh, shit!”

The paper was completely blank.

Two Hours later...

Colonel Gerald Carter accepted the signal

“Anything else, Sir?” The soldier asked.

“No, Corporal, that will be all for now.” Carter said as he slit the envelope open.

“The man came to attention, uttered the magic word. “Sir!” And left. closing the door behind him.

The colonel read the signal...

The signal, printed on a standard Army Form, stated: Preston Pans Psychiatric Facility reports unauthorised departure of a coach. Aboard: Dr Vivienne Walker, four Hive drones (designations GS-02, MH-27, TW-06 and VL-19), two sedated female patients, plus five female MoD Police officers and nine other female of staff. Director found unconscious; authorisation document blank. Vehicle last seen heading south on A1. 1st SRU to maintain close surveillance of Hive Facility at Corris Uchaf. No immediate action required.

Carter felt the blood drain from his face. TW-06 was Sally and she was gone. Not just Sally but Walker and the other drones, all whisked away from right under the MoD’s nose. Had MoD Plods been turned or had they just screwed-up big-time? The Hive’s reach was longer than he’d feared. He pictured the blank authorisation paper—a chillingly simple, brutal mockery of their security. They hadn’t just lost assets; they’d been out manoeuvred.

He ed the flimsy signal to the General. This wasn’t just a breach; it was a declaration of hostilities. The Hive wasn’t hiding any more it had begun to move openly and was turning their own people into accomplices with terrifying ease.

General Johnson read it and then waited while Carter gave a summary of the incident at Preston Pans to the three NCO’s.

When he had finished and the surprised comments had died down the General brought them back to their previous discussion on the Hive and it’s motives by asking if there were any questions.

Rod was the first to speak up, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Ma’am,” he began, his hands folded on the table before him, “If what Staff Perkins was saying is true, and these drones are more like... of a family or a club than brain-washed captives, how are we supposed to fight against a quarter of a million of them? And how can we hope to rescue them if they’re just going to turn around and walk back into that Hive?”

Major-General Johnson leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers under her chin. “We can’t. the Hive is just too big and too integrated for us to simply fight it.” She said, her voice measured and calm. “We’ve got to think of it more like... a colleague, rather than an enemy. In effect the Hive has reached and sured the point of singularity. It is an entity in it’s own right... And a highly intelligent and adaptable one at that.”

The Colonel’s hand clenched into a fist. “What are you saying, Maxine?” he asked, his voice tight with frustration. “That we just sit back and let them take over?”

The General’s expression was grim. “No,” she said firmly. “But we have to be smarter. We can’t fight them head-on; we’ve got to find a way to reach them, to understand them, maybe even communicate with them. We’re not fighting a war, we’re not even trying to save humanity from a new kind of enemy. It’s almost as if we are trying to counteract a religious movement.”

Mil nodded, her thoughts racing. It was a sobering revelation, but one that made a strange kind of sense. The drones weren’t mindless automatons; they had feelings, desires, and a purpose. They just didn’t fit into the traditional mould of what it meant to be human.

The General turned to her, her eyes sharp. “I want you to maintain your relationship with the drone, Alwena Pugh.” She said. “You have a... connection with her. Use that to learn more about the Hive, to find out what makes it tick.”

Mil shook her head. “I’m sorry to have to say this, Ma’am, but I think that it’s even worse than what you say.”

Anger flared across the General’s face for an instant, anger at being contradicted by a mere staff-sergeant, but it quickly subsided as she recognised that Mil Perkins probably knew more about drones than any one else here. “Carry on, Staff.” She said quietly.

“Ma’am, it strikes me that we’re dealing with a single sentient entity here a sort of artificial intelligence, but one built up of human brains and not computer processors.” She paused, the concept AI had always fascinated and terrified her in equal measure. “We have human consciousness here, consciousness that is being harnessed and controlled on a massive scale. This was something we’ve only ever seen in science fiction films. But not any more as it’s now a reality and close to home. Frankly it’s making my head spin even trying to contemplate it.”

The General nodded in agreement, her expression grim: an acknowledgment of the gravity of their situation and her realisation that Mil might be onto something.

Rod swore under his breath, a low, guttural sound that seemed to resonate with the very walls of the room. His fists clenched and unclenched, a silent testament to his rage and fear. He had seen the drones in action, their eerie calm and unshakable determination. To think that somewhere in there, his comrades were trapped, their minds rewired to serve this incomprehensible force, was too much to bear.

The Colonel muttered “God have mercy on our souls!” His eyes haunted by the images of his daughter and the thousands of others who had been absorbed into the Hive.

Mil knew that he was torn between his duty to the mission and his love for his daughter. The idea of his Sally being so content, yet utterly changed, was something he couldn’t reconcile. Mil had known Sally for many years, in fact she had known her when she was a boy—troubled and confused by feelings and longings his father did not understand.

“Do you think that this AI gestalt, this group mind is conscious?” Major-General Johnson asked.

“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.” Mil answered... Military protocol forgotten in the face of the enormity of what she was proposing.

“Do you know, I think you’re right! “Johnson proclaimed before adding. “Given that it now has over three quarter of a million processors, it has to be. But how the hell are they integrating them together?”

Mil shrugged. “Sorry, Ma’am, that’s for someone who knows what they are talking about to fathom out ’cos it’s beyond my pay-grade.”

“Ma’am,” Collin said, breaking the silence that followed Mil’s statement, “We have to find a way to reach them, to make them see that there’s more to life than serving this Hive.” His voice was steady, his resolve unshaken even by the overwhelming odds they faced.

“But they’re not serving the Hive,” Mil said very quietly, “they’re serving each other, and in doing so, they believe that they are are serving the whole of humanity. They aren’t just the Hive, they’re the future.”

The five of them seemed to fold in on them selves as the implications of Mil’s words settled on them... Some sipped their tea while the rest just sat staring thoughtfully into space as they contemplated what Mil was implying.

Is this really what the future holds? Mil thought as the weight of her own words pressed down on her. I like the drones but a quarter of a million of them? How can we stop them from taking over? Am I right? Are they really the future?

One of the drones employed as stewards and cleaner entered the room and moved over to Mil, bent down and whispered something into the staff-sergeant’s ear.

Mil stiffened, relaxed again and then smiled. “I’m told that Alwena’s outside...”

Colin grinned and muttered. “Some people have all the luck. What’s she got that I haven’t?”

Rob chuckled. “Tits and a winning personality for a start!”

Mil stood up and looked towards the General. “With your permission, Ma’am?”

Major-General Johnson nodded. “Carry on Staff-Sergeant.”

Then as she moved towards the door she ed close to the General and said. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

No one noticed when Mil brushed lightly against the woman, nor did they see what she held. Light glinted momentarily from the control chip clutched in her hand which was of the type that she had previously applied to Karen... To Jenny... To Doctor Walker... And now to Major-General Johnson...

General Johnson never felt the fleeting ...

Mil had been correct; the Hive was the future: a future that had now arrived.