The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Low Earth Orbit

Lingering hundreds of miles above, and nestled discreetly within the Earth’s thermosphere, is the Orion mothership Otrokár. She hovers in place, awaiting the return of her much smaller brethren and their recently gathered payloads. The first harvest could take anywhere from six to eight months, or maybe even a year. But in the end, the precious cargo inside those holds would be well worth the wait.

Within the throne room of the massive ship, Queen Admira sits upon her royal chair made of gold and ivory. In near total silence, the supreme leader basks beneath the soothing glow of emerald mood lighting. This artificial source of light is meant to mimic that of the star of Orion, which is the most prominent sun on her home planet. This is just one of the many personal touches that the queen has made in an effort to make her feel more at home.

Though well equipped, this throne room is laughably smaller than the one back home. Of course there’s the raised circular dais that upholds Admira’s impressive throne, along with the troop of faithful servants that befit her station. Such qualified help as the flashy Chef de cuisine, known for wowing the queen with his high-end delicacies. Or the lovely and talented harpist with the flowing black tresses and the gossamer-thin gown. The shapely siren is seated on a stool, lightly strumming away on the upright harp before her. And just to add a little decadence, the queen has even decorated her modest surroundings with a small collection of suspiciously detailed statuary. But even with these pompous and costly additions, her temporary accommodations are no comparison to the vast courtyards of the royal palace.

The queen misses her long walks in the imperial garden, and being able to tend to the bizarre variety of plants that she’s collected from abroad. Each species had been lovingly repotted and then put on display in custom-made, walk-in enclosures, which serve to present them in their very own natural environment. And then there’s the elaborate assortment of birdbaths, each frequently visited by an exotic population of birds, all of which have been collected from afar. But what the queen misses most of all, is being able to roam through her garden of erotic statuary. She’d been known to spend countless hours, simply studying the many nude forms—both male and female —or otherwise. Each detailed effigy serves to represent a living species from the many unfortunate planets that the Orion’s had already conquered.

Though it’s been only a few moon cycles (4 months) since the Orion leader had left her home planet, it almost seems like an eternity ago. Despite the myriad of wars and the countless missions, the Royal had never really gotten accustomed to the nomadic lifestyle. But such is the existence of an intergalactic slaver…

The supreme leader rubs her eyes and silently reflects, The many sacrifices I’ve made in order to seek pastures anew…

—Sigh

Queen Admira drops back against her throne and drapes one curvy leg over the other. Standing over one arm of her throne is a young underling named Jaro. The shirtless boy slowly fans the queen with an elaborate horsetail plume. Standing at the arm directly across, is his twin sister Merta. She stands firm on her bare feet, wearing nothing more than a wispy toga, and the circular wreath of flowers that rests upon her raven crown. The girl waits ever so patiently, with her forearms fixed outward, and with a gilded serving tray placed evenly upon her upraised palms.

The girl asks in an attentive voice, “Would you like another stem of fruit, m’lady?”

Admira flashes a gracious smile and pats young Merta on the head. “That’s quite alright, my dear; I’m afraid I’m not all that peckish at the moment.”

Merta flashes a genial smile of her own and then bows in respect. She turns on the heels of her bare feet with trained precision, and then carefully steps down from the raised dais. With her long black mane shimmering beneath the emerald mood lighting, she walks across the room with faultless poise; her back kept board-straight by an imaginary book, while each stride is perfectly timed. When the girl arrives at the extravagant buffet table, she politely dips in place and surrenders her tray to an awaiting attendant. That servant gives Merta a nod, indicating that she’s sufficiently completed her task.

Merta nods her head in return and murmurs a soft, “Oui-ti.”

The female underling then executes a perfect right turn and walks towards a small grouping of statues. It is here, amongst the living dead, that the young girl takes her rightful place upon her own dais. Merta reaches for her shoulder and unfastens her toga, allowing it to glide gracefully to her feet. She steps out of the garment and slowly maneuvers her limbs into a pre-determined pose. Without speaking a word, she fixes her stare and slips off into a state of frozen solitude.

Admira looks on from her throne, a satisfied expression now showing on her face. …She’s taken to the programming rather well, the royal silently mused. But the queen’s appreciative gaze of her latest nude won’t last for very long...

The hydraulic doors at the far end of the throne room sweep open with a “shush-it” sound. In the hallway beyond, the fast-paced clicking of stiletto-heeled boots foretell who it might be…

An alert guardsman at the entrance of the room is heard to order, “All hail the princess!”

Inside the queen’s quarter’s, the green-skinned thralls and brooding guardsmen alike, all bow forward in a sign of respect. Only the life-like statues remain resolute…

Queen Admira looks up to see her one and only offspring —her daughter Theramea —now fast approaching (and in shiny black latex to boot).

“Well, well; if it isn’t my spoiled progeny and the successor to my throne,” the queen scoffed. One of her pencil-thin eyebrows furrows down low as she criticizes, “…And appropriately dressed as the Royal brat, I see.”

“And greetings to you, —mother,” the princess sarcastically returned. “It’s a real treat, as always.”

Admira is quick to volley, “…And to what may I owe this great displeasure?”

The two exchange contemptuous stares, as the arrogant heiress continues to click-clack her way across the spacious room…

“I’ve been rather busy, believe it or not. But I’ve come across some vital information to pass along to you.”

Queen Admira lets out a doubtful laugh and then stretches out languidly on her side. With more than a note of disinterest in her voice, the elder royal goes on to request, “Do tell.”

Before Theramea starts her pitch, she flashes a look of annoyance at the beautiful harp player in the corner. The young maiden continues to strum away beautifully, as if she hasn’t a care in the world. And in truth—she doesn’t. The young artist’s only purpose on this mission is to entertain the almighty queen, and entertain her she will...

“I said that it’s vital information,” the princess repeated, before lowering her voice, “…As in highly confidential…?”

“D’you wish for me to build you a sound proofed sitting room?” the queen mocked. “We could sit like proper ladies and indulge ourselves with bowls of Plomeek soup …Or perhaps I could import some Keronian tea and honey, just to suit my daughter’s eclectic tastes?”

Theramea snarls in contempt. “You know exactly what I mean, mother —as in THEM?”

“I control all their thoughts, dear. I can assure you that there isn’t a defector in the bunch.”

Her adamant daughter cocks a shiny hip out to the side. “You can’t just do the snapping thing with your fingers?”

Admira rolls her eyes in disgust and mumbles, “That’s the problem with this newer generation; …always looking for the easy way out.”

The queen raises one arm from her lap and casually tilts her hand back at the wrist. She snaps her fingers loudly whilst announcing the trigger “Tikh Zin.”

Even as her mother said it, Theramea could feel the sudden change in the atmosphere around them.

Everyone in the room instantly froze in the middle of whatever they were doing. The Executive Chef stands leaning over the buffet, his stainless steel cutlery still in hand. Her Majesty’s Botanist stands in one corner with both arms raised; one of her hands is tending to a hanging plant, while the other carefully tilts a pitcher of water forward. …Jaro stands to the left of the throne in his loincloth, his horsetail plume apparently caught in the middle of an upswing. And just beyond, the beautiful harpist leans forward on her stool, stiffened in place while strumming out a timeless note.

Theramea watches closely for any of the telltale signs, like a slight rising of the chest, or even a blink of the eyes. But the entranced harpist stays true to her mistress’s command and doesn’t move in the slightest way. In her mind she has, in fact, become a perfect statue…

Indifferent of her own powers, the queen goes on to inquire, “…Now you were about to say?”

Theramea flashes a slight smile and informs, “I believe we’ve found a way to bump up our quota in the mid-western sector of the United States.”

“Mmm, that’s under Kiyar’s command, is it not?”

“Yes it is,” confirmed the princess.

“Proceed.”

“One of our converts in the state police department there, recently notified us of some sort of—I believe they called it—a motorcycle rally? …Anyway, this event draws crowds of people from all over the Midwest. He also went on to inform us that there are literally hundreds, if not thousands of beautiful women there.”

Admira suddenly shows interest by leaning forward on her throne.

“And what type of setting is this …this …so-called rally?”

“That’s the best part!” exclaimed the princess. “It’s held in a secluded area on the outskirts of a small town. The property covers almost thirty acres, including the main bar, music stages and the parking areas. I can assure you that this is no… What do they call it?”

Admira instructs, “I believe it’s called a watering hole, dear.”

“Right!…I figure we can go in, stabilize the area, harvest what we need, and then convert the rest —all without being detected.”

“Hmm; …and you’ve already conferred with Kiyar on this?”

“The council is drawing up the plans as we speak.”

Admira states, “Very well then; I’ll contact the captain this evening.”

With sweetness in her voice that is rarely heard, Theramea goes on to say, “Thank yooou, mother…”

“You’re certainly welcome, my dear.”

Satisfied that she’s gotten her way (yet again), Theramea does an about face and marches off in the direction in which she came. As she’s approaching the hydraulic doors, she eyes a couple of the Royal Guards that are standing on either side of the archway. Like most Orion males, they are tall and well-muscled. She steps up to the nearest one, whom stands ram-rod straight and with a suspender weapon leaned back at his shoulder. He’s attired in standard Royal Guard livery, consisting of a gold-beaded choker, strapped sandals, and a bronzed galea on his head. A pair of charcoal colored briefs with Egyptian scrollwork in gold covers his bottom.

…Well hello there.

Theramea brushes a hand over his bare chest, allowing the fine hairs to tickle the tips of her fingers. She cracks a favorable smile and glances downward. The guard’s Lycra briefs fit tight to his body, and she can easily make out the remarkable imprint of his cock. The princess drags her blood-red nails up over his thickness, and the male’s unit immediately springs to life. Despite her advances, the guard remains steadfast, (his earpieces telling him to do so). The princess cracks another appreciative smile...

…Mother always had a good eye for those devilish things.

Theramea lets out a small hmph, turns on a heel, and then flips her long black main out over her shoulder. Like the true tease that she is, the princess marches off, leaving the guard standing there at attention and in more ways than one…

A call from the queen

It’s sometime later, when Queen Admira decides to summon her user interface for her computer. The viewing screen appears out of thin air, and she begins fingering through the numerous visual feeds coming in from the other ships around the earth. The queen is searching for a ship that is stationed in the rural Kansas area…

…Ah ha! …There she is.

Having located the App for the collection ship Chimera, Admira uses her fingers to maneuver around the various windows on the screen. She’s trying to locate a live feed of the captain’s quarters…

Onboard the Chimera, Captain Kiyar is maneuvering views around on his own interface screen. He’s reviewing aerial photos for their next mission, when the entire screen suddenly blinks to another view. The almighty queen suddenly appears, and the captain immediately bows his head in respect...

…Queen Admira returns the gesture.

“Good evening, Kiyar. I just thought I should check in on the progress of our politician friend.”

“Yes, Your Highness …I was actually with the mayor not long ago.”

“…And?”

“I’m not so sure he’s convinced.”

…The queen crosses her arms over in a sign of agitation. Her expression looks troubled, as if she’s losing her patience.

“You did show him his family, didn’t you?”

“I did indeed. But I’m afraid the sight of his daughter may have been a bit too much for him. He broke down and began weeping like a little child.”

“I’ve no tolerance for the weak of heart, captain. The mayor isn’t doing us any good just sitting around his cell and weeping himself to sleep. I want that man converted and placed back in his office where he belongs! …Besides, I’ve some big plans for him.”

“As you wish, Your Highness. I will have him sent to the conversion room immediately.”

The queen then inquires, “And how is our little news reporter coming along?”

“We already have Olivia Munson wired up,” informs the captain. “She’s currently undergoing stage two conditioning.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed the queen. “She’ll make a fine little puppet! …And the rest of her crew, did you manage to get them too?”

“We have the crew, the morning and evening news anchors, and everyone else that’s involved with local broadcasting. My second and third units overtook the local news and radio stations just after we overran the town hall.”

“This is great news!” applauded the queen. “Once you gain control the government and the media, then you can control the masses.”

“Oh, most certainly, Your Highness.”

The queen goes on to address, “Now I shouldn’t have to remind you that we need to step up our production numbers. The demand for human females has never been higher, and if a production increase can only be achieved by rounding up the entire herd, then we need to start harvesting en masse! …I’ve given you the best equipment and the qualified personnel to achieve this goal, so put them to use!”

“But of course, Your Highness. I do believe that this next strike will give us the higher numbers that you’ve been looking for.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about this so-called motorized gathering on the 4th. Just keep in mind that quality is far more important than quantity.”

“My technicians scan each and every candidate,” the captain assured. “We keep those with the most potential.”

“Very good, captain. The last thing I need is an entire storage hold full of ugly trollops that aren’t even fit for resale. They won’t do us any good, no matter how compliant we can make them. Do I make myself clear, captain?”

“Of course, Your Highness; no ugly trollops.”

“Are the troops fully prepared?”

“I’ve already briefed my troops about the upcoming mission, and I can assure you that the strike will be swift and efficient.”

“That’s terrific, captain. And I must say that you’ve done some impressive work over these last twenty four clicks. However, I think I’m going to send Theramea down for this next mission, just to help oversee things.”

…Kiyar does all that he can to hide his disappointed expression.

Sensing the captain’s discontent, the queen goes on to query, “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

Kiyar swallows hard in his throat and ensures, “N-no …not at all, Your Highness.”

Admira narrows her eyes in suspicion. “I shall remind you, captain, that despite all her restlessness, my daughter is a highly qualified and decorated warrior. She will be an invaluable asset on this mission.”

“Yes, but…”

“But what, captain?”

“She has these …Well, for a lack of a better word —tendencies.”

“We all have tendencies, captain …Even I have them. But my daughter’s sexual urges have nothing to do with carrying out this mission, do I make myself clear?”

The captain tries to mask his disappointment and regrettably answers, “But of course, my queen.”

Admira nods her head in approval and affirms, “Very good, captain …Now did you learn anything new from this latest batch of captives?”

Kiyar gets a worried look. He goes on to confess, “There was this police woman that was captured at the scene. After deep conditioning, she informed us that she’d spoken to the sheriff on her radio —and in the middle of a local dinner. I’m afraid there may have been some witnesses…”

Admira’s nostrils flare and she furrows an eyebrow. “Captain; need I remind you about the consequences of exposure and traceability? I’m afraid that I’ll have to hold you fully accountable.”

Kiyar is quick to assure, “I had two of our converts return to the scene. They captured the owners of the diner, as well as the waitress that was working that shift. The owners are being converted as we speak, while the waitress has been added to our stock. …As for the possibility of any exposure; we continue to remain fully undetected at the target. As you know; every day above ground is a good day...”

“I suppose it is, captain. Just be sure that the mental conditioning “takes” on those restaurant owners. They will surely be of use as puppets, especially if they come in regular contact with the public.”

“But of course, my queen.”

“Well I’m afraid I must be going, captain. But I’ll leave you with this earth phrase that I picked up during training: “To the victor belong the spoils!”

Kiyar creases a bushy eyebrow, as if pondering the actual meaning of the phrase. …To the victor belong the spoils… “Hmm; that does sound rather interesting.”

Admira flashes him a crafty look. “I do wish you a good evening, captain.”

…As the queen’s face slowly fades from view, Kiyar spins around in his chair and expels a deep breath. …Theramea overseeing the mission…That’s all I need!