The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Crescent City Stories: What the Villains Did Next

Home is where the memories are

Spice just stood there, staring up at the vaguely ‘bot-shaped hole the intruder has smashed through the ceiling. Her mind was reeling. Two sets of conflicting instructions were at war and the young woman’s indecision was paralysing.

Master’s standing orders said she should stay on site unless given permission to leave. But she couldn’t allow the robot to escape. There had been something about the silver-skinned Amazon, or more accurately, something about the code floating around inside its beautiful head.

Even the thought of disobedience was terrifying, and yet somehow the possibility of not finding out what secrets the gynoid held, was infinitely worse.

Spice knew that her curiosity was drawing her into forbidden territory. After all, it wasn’t a slave’s place to question, only her acceptance was required. But, for whatever reason, that argument lacked the weight it should have held.

Guilt tugged at her, lashing the young woman’s thoughts in impotent fury.

The decision had already been made, however. Spice stepped forward, dragging her lithe body up and over the fallen rubble.

She needed answers and something told her that the ‘bot was the only one who could provide them.

* * *

The two sparring and, equally naked, women abruptly disappeared.

Growling in frustration, the Confectioner worked his controls, fighting to get the rebellious machinery back under control.

Clouds of grey dust billowed before the cracked lens, obscuring a battleground that still danced with sheet lightning. The villain caught a glimpse of oiled flesh, but the chipped glass wouldn’t focus.

He stepped away from the viewer, letting it spin as his fingers slipped free from the sculpted handles.

Obviously his slave had completely disobeyed his instructions and taken the fight outside.

The Confectioner tried to calm himself, the breath hissing from his lips as a sweet sigh. He really was going to have to ‘picturise’ the former heroine... something the villain decided would involve some very intense spanking.

But, for now at least, it seemed he would have no choice but to let Spice get on with things by herself. That left him with a bit of spare time and, with three more heroines to sensually torment, he knew exactly how to fill it.

* * *

Cypher stirred weakly, her mind still mired in the Confectioner’s sticky touch. Warm tremors ran up and down the heroine’s arms, but that was all her muscles could manage. Something viscous held her tightly, trapping Carol’s hands in its comforting embrace.

Cool concrete pressed against her nakedness, teasing the heroine’s nipples into taut arousal. She squirmed, every movement sending additional shivers through her captive flesh. Her power reached out randomly, in increasingly desperate attempts to find something, anything that might aid her.

The problem was, that the Confectioner had specifically hardened his lair against just this kind of attack. Cypher could feel the dim sense of distant security cameras, but nothing that would give her the foothold she needed to gain access to the building’s systems.

She pulled harder, feeling the strain in her shoulders as they fought against the thick sponge holding her hands. Sticky fingerprints prickled wetly over her lips, reminding her of the villain’s wandering hands. The Confectioner’s scent fogged her thoughts, sweet spice filling the heroine’s mind with every laboured breath.

Inwardly, the young woman cursed her weakness. Soft sounds escaped her lax lips, each feeble whine only adding to her sense of hopelessness. Her powers were useless and there seemed no choice but to lie there and wait for some kind of rescue, a rescue she was by no means certain would come.

* * *

Once the candy-floss wrapped woman was safely ensconced in her cocoon, Sugar set off to collect the next heroine. She knew this one was supposed to be fast, although, given that she was currently enjoying the pleasures of Master’s jelly-room, that didn’t seem likely to be a problem.

The once dour woman practically skipped down the corridor, a broad smile on her face.

She was pleased that the sounds of battle had finally ended. Hopefully, that meant Spice would be back soon. It was fun to play with Master’s new toys, but it would be even better with her slave-sister by her side.

Sugar had spent a couple of nights in the jelly-room herself and, what little she could remember of that pleasure-laden experience, was enough to send liquid tremors down into the base of the young woman’s spine.

A wave of honeyed perfume poured through the hatch as she pulled it open. Answering heat trickled over Sugar’s thigh and it became an effort not to moan.

The heroine knelt on all fours, hands and legs trapped helplessly in transparent, rainbow jelly. Two over-sized jelly figures held tightly to the woman’s body, humping themselves slowly against her. Sugar smiled more widely at the sight of the captive being so thoroughly spit-roasted.

There was an expression of utter bliss on the woman’s face, even through the emerald gel’s distortion. The mind-controlled crime-fighter ran her fingertips up the captive’s bowed spine. She allowed her touch to ghost through the woman’s skin, delighting as she arched and shivered.

The two ‘babies’ would be reluctant to let their prize go free, but Sugar could be very persuasive when she chose.

Her hand drifted away from the nape of the captive’s neck. Sugar cracked her knuckles enthusiastically, fixing the nearest sentinel with a determined stare.

She clenched her hand into a tight fist. Time for some delicate diplomacy.

* * *

“What are we doing?” Stephibot asked, unable to tolerate the thickening silence.

The gynoid was making steady progress through the city streets. She itched to lengthen her stride, to push at the sound barrier and really make some noise. But there were far too many warning messages obscuring her vision and pushing herself was bound to exacerbate the damage she had already sustained.

“We need to get you into the shop,” the presence answered.

“Mistress has the best-stocked workshop in the city,” the gynoid replied.

“The Gadgeteer’s base is no longer secure,” the voice countered. “And we’ll be vulnerable while you get yourself fixed up.”

“Fixed up?” Stephibot wondered.

“Oh come on,” the presence chuckled, sending soft tingles down the length of Stephibot’s spine. “You know how much I enjoy playing with your hardware.”

She didn’t have an answer to that. Her emotions, whether they were emulated or real, were in turmoil. But one question was in the forefront of the ‘bot’s brain.

“Ampere,” the ‘bot asked very softly. “How are we going to rescue Mistress now?”

The voice didn’t respond for a long moment. Stephibot could sense its discomfort and that only fuelled the gynoid’s own anxieties.

“Give me time,” the presence finally answered, its tone pleading. “I’m sure there was something in your Mistress’ databanks, I just have to find it.”

“What kind of something,” the gynoid pressed. “Come on, I’m going out on one hell of a limb here. The least you could do is tantalise me.”

“You know I’d love to,” the presence smiled. “But tracking this down is just too important. Because, if it does what I hope then we might just have found ourselves a weapon.”

Stephibot allowed her pace to slow. The gynoid’s eyes swept back and forth, while her other senses probed her surroundings in more detail. The apartment building didn’t look like anything special, but, as she drew closer, the ‘bot could feel how the local EM field spiked.

“Home, sweet home,” the voice announced as the front door swung open. “Time to get you up on the workbench, then we’ll see what’s going on under your bonnet.”

“So basically this is all just an excuse to check out my chassis?”

* * *

Pausing only to flick the thick, green residue from her fingers, Sugar bent to scoop the second heroine from her gelatinous prison. The speedster’s well-proportioned frame was light in the brainwashed woman’s arms, her expression still blissful in her blank repose.

It was clear to Sugar that her captive was still awake, though it was difficult to judge how aware she might be. What was very clear was that the heroine had been rendered entirely helpless and that knowledge sent a deep thrill through the slavegirl’s being.

Even better was the thought of just how much more malleable the young woman’s mind was going to become, just as soon as she was loaded into her own conversion pod.

She cooed quietly, enjoying the feel of the girl’s warm skin against her own.

Sugar stared down into her captive’s eyes, eyes that had already begun to take on a soft green glow. She could remember only pieces of her time in the pod, but even those vague memories were enough to send twinges through her being.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Don’t fight the changes and soon, you’ll feel as wonderful as all of Master’s other toys.”

The girl’s mouth opened and closed, as though she was trying to speak. Sugar listened intently, but couldn’t hear a sound. Not that it mattered, whatever she wanted to say, would make no difference at all once the pod had worked its magic upon her.

* * *

The ‘bot’s spoor wasn’t difficult to follow. But she was moving far too quickly for Spice to keep up.

Fortunately for the ex. crimefighter, it was already late, so the streets were practically empty and wherever the gynoid was headed, it was far enough off the beaten track to keep traffic to a minimum.

Still, even under multiple layers of the Confectioner’s conditioning, Spice was still aware of the need to keep to the shadows. After all, even in Crescent City a naked woman wandering about the place was going to draw unwelcome attention.

As she crept through the night, a strange sense of deja vu gripped her. There was something undeniably familiar about the route she was taking, even though she would have sworn blind that she had never been to this part of town before.

Spice’s anxieties only grew stronger as she continued. But she was determined to find the ‘bot, no matter what the cost. It represented a threat to Master’s safety and that was enough for her to circumvent great chunks of her conditioning.

She wasn’t quite ready to admit the role her own curiosity played in her determination, not even to herself. But it was there, and it only added to her desire for answers.

* * *

“I’m going to need your arm-cannon,” the voice explained after Stephibot had seated herself in something that look uncomfortably like it belonged in a dental surgery.

The gynoid leant back, trying to ignore the cables rising serpent-like from the head of the chair. Access panels sprung open, exposing Stephibot’s endoskeleton. A thrill of excitement ran through the ‘bot’s silver frame and she couldn’t stifle a needy moan.

Okay... so maybe she was a bit of a slut.

Fibreoptics interfaced with her systems and the gynoid gasped at the sudden increase in power. She was aware of the subtle changes spreading outward through her body. A waterfall of shifting code scrolled down the back of her retina, updating and refining as it flowed past.

Ecstasy trickled through the ‘bot’s body, chains of metamorphic microgasms that rebuilt and renewed.

“Bloody hell!” she managed to gasp.

“Hush now,” the voice suggested. “We’re just getting to the good part.”

The presence poured over her, sweeping through the gynoid’s thoughts and leaving her panting for more.

Something fundamental shifted inside Stephibot’s mind. The carefully constructed blocks dissolved, granting access to the deeper, concealed portions of the ‘bot’s psyche. Autonomy became a sudden and unexpected possibility and still the changes continued.

“What have you done?” Stephibot demanded, but the anger was already melting.

“I’ve given you a choice,” the voice answered, its tone challenging.

She pulled away from the flexing cables and rose sinuously to her feet. The access panels snapped shut, sending a new series of diagnostics skittering across her vision. Power surged, coiling around her arm and wrapping the cannon’s muzzle in brilliant light.

“She’s still my Mistress,” the ‘bot insisted, aware that there were no more imperatives to guide her.

“I know,” the presence accepted, although there was a deep sadness to those simple words. “And I will help you find her.”

The gynoid’s self-diagnostics gave precious little clue as to what other changes had been made. But her thinking felt clearer, as though she was really seeing for the first time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, unsure what else she could say.

* * *

The garage door opened as she approached. Spice could feel the electromagnetic flux growing more intense as she crept closer and, inside the apartment there was nothing but white noise.

But the ‘bot’s trail definitely lead here and the sense of deja vu was undeniable.

Alert for the possibility of a trap, Spice entered the flat-roofed garage. Almost immediately she became aware of another presence, an elemental intelligence that tasted of raw electricity. Her shields flared into life, enclosing the woman in a bubble of crackling lightning.

But instead of the attack she’d been expecting, the digital construct nuzzled against Spice’s power and she realised she knew this being, although the source of that knowledge continued to elude her. A name drifted through her confused thoughts and a sense of certainty crystallised.

Liathe.

She looked over to the sleek, high tech motorcycle sitting in one of the garage’s two recharging booths. Its perfect, ceramic lines seemed to shiver in the soft light and Spice had the very strong impression that it wanted to be let loose.

How do I know this machine? she wondered, silently. How do I know this place?

* * *

“We’re out of time,” the voice announced.

Stephibot cocked her head, and became aware of the subtle change in the apartment.

“It’s her,” it continued. “The house only recognises residents.”

“So,” she asked. “What happens now?”

“Now,” the presence began, haltingly. “Now we find out just how good your Mistress really is.”

The gynoid scanned the tell-tales and saw green lights across the board. Energy thrummed through her arm cannon, discharging random arcs that danced and cavorted.

“Just point me at her,” the gynoid grinned, prepped and primed for a rematch.

Her orientation system painted the apartment with artificial colour, highlighting the route to the intruder’s location.

Stephibot moved quietly down the stairs, relying on the unseen presence to deal with the house’s computer system. She knew that the lighting-throwing woman would be almost certainly aware of her approach, and it was a question of trusting the stowaway inside her skull to deal with that.

Delaying wasn’t an option. The gynoid was all too conscious of the length of time Mistress had already been in the villain’s clutches. That thought added steel to her conviction. She might no longer feel the full weight of those hardwired imperatives, but Stephibot still needed to do whatever she could to protect the woman who had effectively created her.

The door opened automatically, accepting the ‘bot’s digital handshake and granting access to the garage.

Scintillating light spilled into the apartment, and the stink of ozone filled the air.

“What is this place?” the naked, lightning-wreathed woman demanded.

But Stephibot wasn’t in a talking mood. The cannon screamed her response, brilliant blue fire licked hungrily over the surface of the woman’s shields.

The gynoid swallowed her disappointment. Mistress was the best. So, this had to work, whatever it was...

“Resonance,” the voice explained as the shield continued to shimmer. “Harmonic resonance, using her own shielding as a vector for something really nasty.”

A scream was ripped from the intruder’s throat, the sound raw with terrible uncertainty.

Stephibot stared at the woman, watching as she dropped to her knees, hands clamped tightly against her ears. Horror gripped her and she jerked the beam away.

“Don’t!” the presence urged.

“What are you doing to her?” the ‘bot gasped, but pulled the cannon back on target. “What did we infect her with?”

“Like I said, something really nasty.”

“Ampere!” Stephibot snapped. “What is it?”

“Me...”

To be continued...