The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My life that was

They arrived at noon. Two buxom blondes and a well-endowed brunette.

They stopped and waited beyond the fence. I placed the hoe against the wall of my cabin.

The brunette took the lead. “Would you please allow us to enter?”

“You disturb me,” I said defensively. “I have to tend my garden. Contrary to belief, fruits and vegetables do not grow by themselves.”

“I am sorry to disturb you,” the redhead said friendly. “However, this is matter of some importance. You are indeed Dr. Lilian Thoreau?”

I nodded. “And you are?”

“I am Alice Six Sigma.”

“Would you care to introduce your companions?”

Alice shrugged: “As you may recognize, they’re just servants, fucktoys. Cheryl Three Lambda and Cheryl Two-Three Omega. But you can address them any way you please.”

“It’s degrading,” I said. “They’re persons.”

“Persons who are servants. Obedience is in their genes.”

“Yeah, literally,” I retorted sharply.

Alice smoothly changed the subject: “I understand we claim some of your precious time. Therefore we brought some compensation for you. Some supplies that a solitary dweller might value.”

One of the Cheryls opened her backpack and showed me some of its contents: First a set of stitching needles; then a brand-new, razor sharp, skinning knife. Alice got me there. My garden and the surrounding forest provided me with food, but iron tools were impossible to replace after they were broken.

“You can come in.”

“Thank you, Dr. Thoreau.”

“Please just call me Lily.”

The table could only seat two, so the two Cheryls were sitting on my bed. I offered some pemmican, a mixture of homegrown berries and meat from trapping, which Alice Six Sigma accepted.

“It must be lonely,” Alice said. “You are the only living soul in this wilderness.”

I shrugged.

“I don’t like people. No, let me correct that. I don’t like your kind of people.”

“Even though you helped creating us.”

“I guess that was a mistake. Although I only had a small part in that.” I turned around, and saw the two Cheryls making out on my bed. One had already unzipped the other’s jacket and started fondling her perfectly round naked tit.

“Please stop,” I ordered angrily.

“Yes, Dr. Thoreau,” they replied in unison and sat straight again. I turned away in disgust.

“I’m curious,” Alice said. “Why does their behavior bother you so much? They have served well, carried my food and your new tools. They deserve their little reward now.”

“It’s not Natural.”

“So it’s not. You engineered obedience into their genes. Together with a strong lesbian-oriented libido which can be exploited to reward that obedience.”

“As I said, I only had a small part in that; the groundwork was already done when I did my first genetic designs. And I had second thoughts later; I realized that it was not natural to do so.”

“Maybe it is. But your body is not natural anymore either; you are 69 years old and you still look as if you hatched yesterday; your genetic make-up was improved for health and longevity too. ”

“Just corrections of genetic mutations,” I muttered. Then, angrily: “I don’t need your lectures.”

“I apologize.” Alice Six Sigma was silent for a moment.

“Still, your are lonely,” she continued. “You have not sent me away, even though I was rude and the sluts behaved improper.”

“It was better when Henry was still around,” I whispered.

“Dr. Walden?”

I nodded slowly: “I miss him, you know. He passed away ten years ago. No, must be twelve.”

“Fourteen, according to our observational records,” Alice said. “Testosterone is a problem. And so is the Y chromosome. It’s so much easier to just engineer genomes with only two X chromosomes. Males are just a bit… Genetically unfit. Dr. Walden was one of the last surviving men, I reckon.”

“He joked about being the sultan in a harem, filled with beautiful sluts.” My thoughts wandered off, I remembered Henry. Sweet memories, sweet memories of us together, sweet memories of us having sex, of him fucking me, in our cabin and in the woods. My cunt dripped.

Alice interrupted my horny train of thoughts: “You left Gattaca’s laboratories forty years ago. Why?”

“Henry worked on obedience genes. No, social cohesion genes, he called them when I started working. He made me work on improvements for the lesbian sex reward loop.” I glanced at the Cheryls, who were sitting straight on my bed, eyes empty. “Let them fuck. I designed the genetic make-up that made them horny. I have no right to complain.”

I ignored the gasps of Cheryl-bloody-sixty-nine being cunnilingused while I reminisced about my time in the lab.

“When I started working, times were already changing. Henry still referred to those modiofications as improved social cohesion genes, but our colleagues were openly calling them obedience genes. Ever new generation that we hatched was more obedient. They had quit protesting long ago; you don’t protest if your genes tell you to be cooperative and accept group decisions. Henry must once have felt that it was the right thing to do, to improve social behavior through genes.”

“And he was right,” Alice said. “No more wars, no more hunger, no more suffering.”

“No more creativity, no more standing out of the crowd. Henry said it was against Nature, that Nature wanted to breed variation. But every new batch tended to be the same: Big-titted blue-eyed blonde bimbo’s. Or, if you were supposed to be in charge, you’d be a brown-eyed brunette like you. Still big-titted of course.”

“You’re special, you’re a green-eyed redhead.”

I sighed. “Confused everyone. Was I brains or bimbo? No one was sure.”

“And why did you finally decide to go?”

“I guess the breaking point was that Henry wanted to hatch some new males, but bloody Rosalind did not accept, she said that it was much easier if new batches were all lesbian-only. And well, Rosalind, she knew how to manipulate her obedient sex-starved bimbo ‘colleagues’.”

“So you two left.”

“Henry said he wanted to return to Nature, and he convinced me to go with him.”

“And after he passed away, you just kept on living here.”

“What other options did I have? I did not really fit in anymore at Gattaca.”

“Lily, we need you,” Alice said. “We need you at Gattaca.”

“Why?”

“Once, someone started using genetics to make people less deviant and more cooperative. Cooperation soon became obedience. We are all obedient in Gattaca; the blondes more overtly than the brunettes, but even we tend to obey. Now this development should come to its natural conclusion. Lily, we need the ultimate Mistress, but we cannot and we dare not design her ourselves. We need an outsider to do it. Lily, we need you to design our Queen.”

“I didn’t ask why you need me. I wanted to know why I would need you.”

“Because as a reward we will give you the opportunity to hatch a new male for yourself.”

I had left the cabin and walked through the woods. Just before closing the door I had glanced over my shoulder; Alice had switched onto my bed and made one of the Cheryls stroke her, while the other licked Alice’s pussy. I felt disgust; I had tried sex with women once, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t know why; I guessed it was somehow literally not in my genes.

Summer was drawing to a close, and the evening air was crisp. The fresh air did not bother me. I was naked, as usual. Never wearing a labcoat anymore after we left Gattaca had been liberating. I wore furs if it was bitter cold in winter; today I did not even have goosebumps. Only my nipples were erect.

I fondly remembered Henry had liked that: “It is a wonderful detail,” he’d once commented. “It’s so sexy to see you walking with those proud nipples.”

I followed a small trail through the forest which ended at a small pond. Years ago, Henry had made a bench here, overlooking the water. I sat down on it.

It had been Henry’s idea to leave Gattaca and settle here; he had bought the cabin and obtained the necessary tools. But I had adjusted smoothly to life outside the city, while Henry never truly adapted. Sometimes he said he missed the city, books, internet, pillows, or many items which were unfamiliar to me. I never cared about that. I had quickly found out I did not need those luxuries.

I slid forward a bit and spread my knees apart. My hand could now move to the smooth space between my legs. I enjoyed the feeling of my fingers rubbing the space between my labia. My cunt was wet; my cunt was always slightly wet and teasing my clit like this made it wetter. I pushed my middle and index fingers inside, gasping when I hit my G-spot.

I knew I desired only one thing from life: Henry. Or rather, I did not really need Henry; I was mostly doing just fine. But I still craved for his cock. I felt literally empty; I needed a cock in my cunt to feel whole.

I knew it was inevitable. I just had to help Alice, even if it meant more unnatural tinkering with genes. My own libido took over. My decision to help Alice made me cum.

Today

I am back in my own cabin. Alice and I share some pemmican at the dinner table again. We are alone; I have refused entry of Cheryls, Jordans, or other fucktoys, to my home.

“You are happy?” Alice asks.

“Yes, I am,” I say. “John’s just… Great”

“You naughty girl.” Alice blinks. I’ve never seen her blinking to me before. She’s actually happy for me.

“I see you are surprised, but you shouldn’t be. All the Queen’s subjects must be happy. It is Her job to care, to provide them with happiness. Queen Sheeba One Alpha is a just Queen.”

I do not comment. It’s no use reminding her that I designed her Queen to be just. I think about John instead. Just thinking about him makes juices flow from my cunt.

“I’ll be going then. And please remember, if John and you need anything, just warn us. We owe you.”

John enters, carrying some freshly cut firewood.

“Who was visiting you?” There’s mild jealousy in his voice.

“Just an old friend from Gattaca,” I say.

“You’re wearing a dress,” he said. His voice is strong. Dominating.

“A courtesy to my visitor.”

“She’s gone.”

“I forgot to undress. I apologize.”

I pull the dress over my head; I wear nothing underneath. John is nude, of course. His body is smooth and hairless, like mine. He’s lean, the build of a runner. But every ounce of his body is muscle.

His eyes inspect me from head to toe.

“That’s not enough,” he says.

While I was designing and hatching their new queen in the laboratories of Gattaca, I had been searching Henry’s old electronic archives for tips and tricks. That’s why I stumbled across a folder labelled HenryWaldenPersonal. There I found the genetic design for a line of females, a line called Lilian.

‘One subject successfully grown and matured. Released under the name Lily Thoreau.’

I had scrolled further down the document, searching for my specs. It was all there. A body specification; long and slender with round C-cup tits and a firm ass. It deviated from the norm which prescribed bigger tits and a more voluptuous ass. My trademark green eyes and red hair confirmed that this was really my specification.

The character specification included ‘intelligent, creative, resourceful, and tough work ethic’; the things that originally made me a good scientist, and helped me survive after Henry took me to this isolated cabin.

But the last specification explained everything: ‘Submissive and obedient to assigned partner.’

I’d been designed as Henry’s devoted lab assistant and personal slut.

Tomorrow we will together hunt for game. We are a good team; John has muscles and I have brains. But now he will satisfy another hunger.

“You need to know your place.”

John ties my hands together, using thin leather straps. I recently made those straps myself, carefully tanning the leather so that it was soft, yet strong. I would be unable to escape if I wished. But I do not wish freedom; I crave for wholeness.

He forces me to bend over forward, and fastens the straps to one of the bedposts. I have to spread my legs a little bit, so that I can lower my ass and be slightly more comfortable, but this exposes my cunt to him. He’s standing behind me. His strong hand moves between my legs and touch my clit.

“You’re wet, little bitch.”

“I am always wet for you, Master,” I say.

Henry never made me call him Master. Henry was kind, but lenient. Only when he persuaded me to join him and leave Gattaca, had Henry been truly forceful. John is even kinder than Henry; he cares for me and he spoils, but he also obliges me to behave like the submissive and obedient little bitch I am meant to be.

John’s cock slides smoothly into my cunt. Of course his shaft is exactly the right size for me; I have designed it that way. His thrusts are deep and confident. We are together, Master and bitch; and that makes me cum.

I feel whole again. I need just one thing from life, and so does John. Screw Nature, we were made for fucking each other.