The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The sun rose higher.

Margot felt as though she were in a trance. Whatever was in that oil, it was some sort of narcotic as well as an aphrodisiac. Her whole body felt loose, a bit like it was floating in a warm bath, a bit like it was drifting into the sky, and it was very hard to concentrate on anything.

At some point, the woman who had been next to her—Burara?—had moved away, but Margot didn’t recall when that had happened. Cora wandered off on short errands, but invariably Margot would look up and discover that Cora was back at her side.

From time to time, Cora would touch her. Her fingers would slide across Margot’s body, inevitably winding up between her legs, plucking and stroking, and the orgasms would white out Margot’s mind again. Once or twice Cora knelt down and licked Margot’s pussy, with the same result.

Margot was lightly concerned—she found herself unable to be more than lightly concerned—that Cora would want some sort of reciprocation. The way Margot felt at the moment, crazy aroused, body thrumming in pleasure, if Cora presented her delicious pussy for Margot to eat, she didn’t think she could help herself. And a large part of her mind didn’t want to.

But that didn’t happen. Occasionally Cora would molest her to orgasm. Otherwise, she was left alone, tied up, drugged, watching the goings-on of two hundred or so mind-infested slaves.

The egg-laying tapered off after an hour or so. Not all the women were implanted; perhaps half of them had been topped before the xenos were gone, having crawled back up onto the buildings, in through shattered windows. Margot guessed, slowly and stupidly, that the xenos simply had run out of eggs, much like they had run out of crawlers.

Time, of course, would resolve that.

She wondered how those eggs would work now. Would they grow and hatch within the women? Would it kill them? Or would they give birth, crawlers sliding their spindly black legs out from eager vaginas?

Or would the eggs just get bigger inside the warm confines of their hosts, and when full-sized, be laid as eggs?

When the sun was only a bit past its peak, Margot felt that she was starting to come back to her senses. She asked for more water, which Cora went to fetch.

There was a lot of activity now on the other side of the big pool, apparently revolving around the insertion pod. Women were walking up into it where it had peeled open. They emerged carrying the whitish stuff which lined the interior, the stuff that Xiulan had thought was insulation, in large irregular chunks which they then deposited in the converter slug.

The slug itself continued to grow; it had at this point displaced all of the water in the pool. Women also continued to kneel at its sides and push their heads against it, so that their crawlers could refill their sacs.

Apparently the paralytic and the aphrodisiac sprays were not their entire arsenal. One of the women had stopped another, not far away from Margot, and sprayed her with a darker, brownish liquid, which the two of them had rubbed into the woman’s skin. Cora didn’t answer Margot’s question about what it was.

All of the women were at this point nude, except for the third of them who, like Cora, were still wearing their shoes.

Cora herself returned coated in the darker fluid; her freckled skin was now a deeper tan. Her white shoes were spattered with brown droplets. She raised a sports bottle to Margot’s mouth, and Margot sucked in lukewarm water.

It was good enough. After drinking it thirstily, she gave Cora a look. “So, do you guys eat, or what?”

“The converter provides nutrition,” Cora replied. By way of a gesture she turned slightly to the side.

Margot looked over. On a different side of the giant slug-thing, another section had ballooned out as a taut black protuberance Margot had thought it was similar to the first one, with women gathered around to push their crawlers’ tails into it, but as she looked at it now she realized the women were actually sucking on it with their own mouths.

“Both nutrition and compounds aiding in physical alteration are being transferred to the slaves,” Cora said emotionlessly. “If you would like some, I can arrange to bring some to you.”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Margot replied. Even doped as she was, the idea of eating corpse-gel was repugnant.

“Are you still thirsty?”

“No, thank you.”

“Very well. Then I... I...” Cora’s voice tapered off.

Puzzled, Margot stared at Cora as her body stiffened, her chest pushing forward, arms tightening to her sides.

“Cora, what...?”

Cora did not respond, standing stock still and staring—if you could call it that—straight ahead.

There was movement by the small pool. A xeno was approaching around it—at first Margot had thought it was one of the large warrior types, but as she looked at it now she realized it was different; rather than being flat-backed it had a large hump on top, a hard black bulge with lots of bumps and ridges. It was thicker through the body, too, the fleshy under-parts hanging lower than they did with the warrior types.

As it passed, all of the enslaved women stopped what they were doing and tightened up, standing stock still, like soldiers standing to attention.

It paused in front of them; Margot could not tell if it were looking at her or Cora.

No one moved.

Then the xeno went on, walking away towards the tower building that Margot and Xiulan had been staying in.

Once it was some distance away, the women near the small pool appeared to relax, and resumed whatever tasks they had been doing.

Cora shook her head a bit, and licked her lips.

“What was that?” Margot demanded. “That creature?”

She didn’t really expect an answer, but Cora surprised her by responding. “A broodmind,” she said, and her voice was husky, almost rapturous. “A thought master.”

“A master? So, uh, those things run the... the brood? That’s what you call yourselves?”

“We do not communicate with speech and so a human equivalent does not really exist. We are a brood, a collective. The terms are inexact. And no, the broodminds do not ‘run’ the brood; they control drone animals such as myself, which it is their function to do. It... analyzed me. And it tells me that I am ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?”

Cora did not respond, but reached up to touch the black shell on the top of her head. She stroked it with her fingertips. Then, both hands pushed against its sides.

The muscles of Cora’s arms flexed.

There was a wet tearing sound, like pulling the legs from a crustacean, and the crawler’s body detached from Cora’s head. The rear legs came away and lifted away from her neck, Cora peeling the whole creature up and forward, like taking off a gas mask in reverse.

There was a moment’s hesitation as the body of the crawler lifted from the crown of Cora’s head, a resistance, and Cora’s muscles strained again until something ripped wetly and the body resumed peeling forward, away from her crushed-flat hair, off from her forehead, until she peeled the flattened glands from her closed eyes and dropped the crawler’s body to the ground.

Cora raised her chin and slowly inhaled.

She opened her eyes.

They were jet black.

Entirely, solidly, black. There was no white at all, nor any other color.

Cora breathed deliberately, slowly, staring with wide open wet-onyx eyes. Her head began to turn slowly, looking around the courtyard.

The glossy black orbs came to rest on Margot, and Cora smiled.

“Hello, Margot,” she said.

“What...” Margot breathed.

“I have joined the brood,” Cora said reverently. “I think with their mind. I see with their eyes. I am one of them and will obey them in all things.”

Her hands went to her pussy. She stroked herself, slowly, and her tongue licked her lips.

She did not blink.

“Yessss,” Cora hissed, hips faintly undulating, “I am brood. I will obey. I am a drone.”

She looked at Margot again. Her eyes were pitch black, darker even than the skin of the crawler that lay dead on the ground. They glistened.

“Join us, Margot,” she said. “Do not resist. To be a slave is... is glorious. I understand now. I know my purpose.”

“I’d, uh... congratulations?” Margot managed.

“First of my seed-brood,” Cora breathed, hands stroking her breasts. “I am so blessed. We will infest them all, my sisters. All humans will be slaves.”

She bent over and lifted the motionless form of the crawler. Raising it to her face, she considered it with her new eyes, then kissed it gently.

Cora turned and tossed the crawler’s used body into the nearby pool. As she did so, Margot could see that there was a black patch, the size of a pinched thumb and forefinger, on the top rear of Cora’s head, where the whorl of her hair had once been. It must have been the spot where the crawler had stabbed into her skull and... done whatever it had done to her. It was the resistance Cora had met when she’d torn the crawler’s body free.

The disconnect hadn’t been clean, though—a handful of unequal-height spikes jabbed upward from the spot like jelled-together tufts of hair, black and hard where Cora’s hair was light brown and soft. The crawler had been torn off its anchor in her head, and where it had been rooted into her it had left that black circle of broken filaments, jutting from the top of Cora’s skull.

Cora turned to face her again and Margot was once more distracted by the wet black eyes.

“Margot,” Cora said. “I want to make love to you.”

Margot shivered, and a large part of it was desire.

“I, uh...”

“But,” Cora went on, “There are things I must do, now that I am... complete. Mm. We will fuck later. For now...”

She leaned forward and kissed Margot on the lips, and the part of Margot that wanted to resist watched in surprise as Margot kissed Cora back, pushing against her, savoring her smell and taste and the feel of her lips on her mouth.

Cora pulled away, and sighed, and smiled.

Margot stared at her stupidly.

Then Cora turned around again. Margot tried to get a better look at the xeno flesh sticking out of her skull, but had a hard time seeing it from her tied-sitting-down position. Then she noticed Cora’s neck—there was a curved black line, like a black vein under her flesh, which ran down from her hairline along the center of her neck, disappearing between her shoulder blades. Smaller curves like smaller veins curled off from it, spreading down either side of her neck.

Someone was approaching. The voluptuous coffee-hued woman who had stood by them earlier came walking over. Her skin was glistening and from this angle Margot could see how her stomach bulged, the outward manifestation of the eggs stuffed inside her. Her crawler was still firmly attached to her head.

“You remember Burara,” Cora said as the dark-skinned woman stopped in front of Margot. “Like me, she is naturally obedient. She will keep you aroused.”

“Hello,” Burara said—the first other slave to actually speak to her, Margot realized. Her lips were a very flattering shade of burgundy; Margot wondered if the converter provided slaves with lipstick, and repressed a giggle.

Then Burara’s crawler spat fluid all over Margot again.

“Imp-fuckit!” Margot swore, turning her head aside and closing her eyes. “What did you do that for?”

“We do not want you trying to escape,” Cora said. “The arousal compound will keep you docile.”

“Fuuuuck,” Margot exhaled, as her skin warmed and tingled. “You’re not ffffairrr.”

Burara’s hands reached down and slid across Margot’s skin, rubbing the oil in. She kneaded Margot’s breasts, stroked her shoulders, ran slippery fingers across her belly.

Margot tried to focus. Was her vision blurring? No, but everything seemed... brighter. The coffee-hued woman moved even closer, close enough for Margot to smell her warm skin.

“Look, Burara,” she said, “I’m not really... well I am, but not... look, if it’s all the same to you, let’s just be friends, okay?”

“No,” Burara replied, gently spreading Margot’s legs apart. They did not resist. “I will make love to you. This will keep you compliant.”

Margot sighed. She was illuminated with arousal by now, and more of her wanted this than didn’t.

Burara’s heavy breasts brushed past her inner thighs as the woman squatted down, sending trembles up and down Margot’s spine. Her hands flexed in a desire to squeeze those breasts, but her arms were still tied down.

Burara’s breath touched upon Margot’s sex and she whined, almost coming from that alone.

“Also,” Burara said to Margot’s pussy, “I want to.”

Then Burara’s mouth closed upon her. She did have experience, and Margot ceased to think.

Later on, everything was still over-bright and a bit blurry. Burara was standing next to her and Margot was torn between a desire to have her go away and a desire to lean over and suckle on those fat nipples.

Why not give up? What they were doing to her did feel awfully good.

How long until the next crawlers hatched, anyway?

Merciful Martyrs. If this was going to take days, she’d go insane.

Margot turned her attention from Burara’s breasts. There was a small group of women approaching the smaller pool that Margot was tied up next to. She frowned and tried to focus on them. They appeared to be carrying something all together. Margot realized that it was another slug. The thing was perhaps twice the size of a person, and the six women were carrying it like a rolled-up carpet.

Where were they getting these things? Were they still coming out of the insertion pod?

The women slid it into the pool. Behind them, several other women were carrying large chunks of the ‘insulation’. They sat down at the edge of the pool and began to tear the packing box-sized pieces into smaller chunks, which they pushed into the slug. Orifices formed on its surface to suck the whitish stuff inside.

One of the women carrying the stuff was the nude blonde, the first to get eggs stuffed into her. Thin as she was, the bulge of her lower abdomen was almost egg-like itself. Margot could see the veins under the skin of her lower belly.

Whenever those eggs were ripe, what would emerge would come for Margot.

Margot envisioned four spindly black legs sliding out of the blonde’s pussy, clapping down upon her belly and ass, pulling the crawler’s body out.

It was disgusting and arousing all at the same time.

She looked around again and saw the purple-haired girl, the one who had been so enthusiastic about getting stuffed with eggs. Her stomach, too, had a distinct bulge—and her crawler was gone.

Apparently they were all going to fall off.

As though she had felt Margot’s attention, the purple-haired girl turned and looked at her. Her eyes were glossy black orbs.

She smiled.

Margot looked away. She wondered if the stuff that Cora had sprayed her with had long-term effects. Not that long-term would really come into play.

She looked back and the purple-haired girl was walking away, towards the landing pod. Margot didn’t see Cora anywhere—or Xiulan, she still hadn’t seen Xiulan—but it had been hours, the brunette was due to put in an appearance and have her spritzed again.

She wondered if she wanted that.

Making decisions had become very hard.

It didn’t seem so bad, really. Being a slave. There was a lot of sex involved, and they all seemed so happy and filled with purpose.

Vaguely, Margot was aware of a grumbling, thrumming noise. As a tropical resort, Arc of Sands had always been filled with birdsong and insect hum; and even after the lander hit those noises had quickly resumed, uncaring of the alien invasion and the decimation of the human population. But this was something else, and Margot realized it was getting louder just at the same time as the enslaved women all around her did. Everyone turned to face the source of the growing noise.

An AATGV roared around the corner of tower number one, wheels throwing up showers of dirt. It was military; camouflage paint and a reciprocating kinetics turret mounted on the top made that clear. Some dim part of Margot’s mind noted it as an older model, probably a type five, the kind they’d built on Corvan before the Kyr sector rebellion.

Then: Merciful Saints, an AATGV!

The vehicle bounced across the denuded landscaping, coming to a halt on the little man-made hill near the pools that had once had several Earth palm trees and was now bare dirt. Margot half expected the various enslaved women to stand around stupidly and stare—and a small part of her expected them to rush the vehicle like a horde of zombies—but instead they ran away, taking cover in the towers.

There was no screaming, no panic, just running into the shelter of the buildings. In less than a minute, all of the enslaved women had disappeared.

The xeno warriors did not.

A dozen of the things had emerged from the towers, dropped to the ground, and were now racing towards the AATGV. On the vehicle, the top hatch flew open and a figure jumped up, taking hold of the RKT. The gun went immediately into action.

Projectiles tore into the xenos. Whatever protection their carapaces provided from small arms fire, it did not extend to shielding them from the explosive force of the RKT’s pellets; they hit at many times the speed of sound and when they hit they almost but not quite vaporized, each pellet becoming an expanding cloud of hilariously violent dust.

That dust blew huge holes in the xenos, what was left of the landscaping, and the concrete of the resort tower walls. The person in the turret knew their business, spinning around with deadly accuracy; despite their speed, none of the xeno warriors got within five meters of the AATGV before being reduced to gibbets.

One leapt down from tower four, attempting to surprise the gunner, but he whirled one hundred eighty degrees and in less than a second reduced the falling xeno to greenish ichor and airborne carapace parts, before whirling back around to point the RKT at the insertion pod.

Suddenly it was quiet. The birds and insects had been shocked into silence; the echo of the hammering gun died away.

Margot realized that she was alone in the courtyard.

Think, she pleaded with her drugged mind. This is our chance. Our one chance. Think.

The knife.

She turned her head as far as she could, but could only see the wooden bowl. Was the knife in it? It had to be. Unless Cora—or someone else—had moved it, or put it behind the bar counter, or... all she knew was that it wasn’t visible.

Didn’t matter. She’d proceed as if it were in the bowl.

The chair she was tied to was heavy, very heavy, but it did move. Margot rocked, hard, and was overwhelmed by dizziness. She clenched her eyes tight and fought off a wave of vertigo.

I’m not falling, she told herself. I’m tied down.

She rocked the stool again.

The gun fired again, shockingly loud. Then a microphone voice snapped: “Send out Doctor Emilee Vanderbruk. Immediately.”

Margot rocked the stool again.

It moved such a tiny amount.

Again.

Again.

The rocking had turned the chair and she could see it now—the knife. It was in the bowl. How could she grab it? Arms bound as they were, her hands couldn’t rise that far.

Knock it to the ground. She could follow.

Margot leaned forward. She could stretch her neck and crane her head downward not quite to the level of the bowl’s edge. If she rocked forward, could she head-knock it to the side?

The microphone crackled again. “Send out Doctor Emilee Vanderbruk, or we will destroy your landing pod. You have twenty seconds to comply.”

She rocked again. Although a centimeter closer, the stool still wouldn’t let her reach the bowl with her head.

She rocked again, and grunted in frustration. Her head was spinning, she couldn’t tell how close she was getting, but she wasn’t touching the bowl even bent as far forward as the ropes would allow.

There was a short burst of fire from the AATGV.

Time to roll the dice. Margot rocked back, forward, back, forward, back—and lunged forward as hard as she could. The stool tilted, she found herself face-down on the surface of the bar, then the stool’s legs slid out and she desperately head-butted the bowl as she was dragged off the bar and down to the ground.

The impact jarred her already fragile head and sent lights flashing in her eyes.

“Approach the AATGV,” the microphone voice boomed. Margot couldn’t tell if the echo was because she was now on the ground or if it was just her ringing ears.

They must be seeing whoever it was they were looking for. Time was short. Margot opened her eyes and saw the bowl—two bowls. And two knives. But now she could push against the bar with her legs and drag the stool with her. She slid towards the closest of the knife-images. She touched it with her shoulder—it was there.

“Closer,” the voice boomed.

She slid forward, letting the knife slide along her arm. There! It was in her hand!

She twisted her arm and rotated her wrist around, and sawed at the ropes. The plastic fibers weren’t meant to resist cutting, and in seconds she was through them, cutting herself in the process.

Margot crawled free. Everything was still double-blurry as she rose to her feet.

There was a woman standing in front of the AATGV—a nude woman with a xeno firmly seated on her head.

Was that Doctor Vanderbruk?

Who cared. Margot ran towards the vehicle.

As she rounded the small pool, the side door of the AATGV swung open and a figure in baggy green clothes jumped out. The person ran towards the nude woman, took her almost in a tackle, and picked her up over their shoulder.

Margot ran towards them. “Wait!” she screamed. “I’m human! I’m still human!”

The turret instantly pivoted and locked onto her. The figure in green threw the nude woman into the vehicle.

“Please!” Margot screamed. “Take me with you!”

She was close enough now to see the face of the turret gunner, and to see the indecision in her eyes.

Well, if they shot her, at least it was a clean death.

The figure in green was sitting at the door, holding the interior handle. Margot ran directly at her.

“Please,” she said to the person in green, as she reached the AATGV.

“Get the fuck in or don’t,” the woman replied.

Margot jumped in. Each interior side was a bench; there was the fair-skinned woman with the crawler atop her head half-lying on the rear of the bench opposite the door. Margot sat down hard next to her.

Oddly, the door remained open. “Captain?” the woman at the door said.

“Allow it,” came a voice from the front.

Another woman jumped into the AATGV. Margot stared.

It was Cora.

The door slammed shut behind her and the engine revved. “Hang on,” came the voice from the front. “We are evac’ing right the fuck now.”

The AATGV bucked and swerved. Margot grabbed for a handle, found it. The woman in green had thrown a strap around herself, but the Doctor—assuming that was her—fell to the floor. Margot grabbed her arm to steady her.

She looked across the space to see Cora’s face turned towards her. Cora was holding tight to a grab-bar behind the drivers’ compartment.

“She’s one of them,” Margot said to the woman in green. “Just look at her eyes.”

“We’ll sort it out when we’re away from here,” the woman replied. “Either of you tries anything, you’re dead.”

Margot looked at Cora again. Cora looked back at her with glossy black eyes.

“I’ll be good,” Cora said.