The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

May 11th, 1998

“Wake up.”

The call to wakefulness was initially resisted by Megan. Then she seemed to remember that she WANTED to wake up.

However, instead of Jake’s handsome, smiling face, Megan was greeted by a pair of dark eyes behind thick, coke-bottle glasses. The face was mostly covered by an oversized surgial mask and some sort of tight, medical cap. It was immediately evident that this was not Jake. Yet, the face, what little Megan could see of it, felt familiar somehow.

Megan tried to sit up, only to find that she was strapped tightly a table. It took only a few moments for her to realize she was no longer in the cell-room. Instead, she was in what appeared to be some sort of medical room. There were a couple of chairs for visitors on the wall nearest to Megan.

Beyond the chairs, the far right wall had a long counter, a sink, and the upper and lower cabinets. The wall opposite the chairs was simply a long, white barrier to whatever lay outside. The door was the same as the one guarding her cell.

The table she lay on was surgical steel. The stranger stood beside a cart filled with all sorts of medical equipment, some of which Megan recognized, while the others were entirely foreign to her.

“J-jake?” Megan whispered. She knew in her heart it wasn’t, but she clung to a vague shred of hope rooted in her memory, even though she couldn’t remember why.

“You truly believe he’s alive again?” The man in the mask had turned away to collect some of the instruments, but glanced back over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows.

“Perhaps you’re not quite as clever as I expected. However, that was only a trial run of my new dream sequencer. Perhaps it’s just that effective.” The voice dispelled all of the hope that her dream had given her.

Unbidden, tears sprang to Megan’s eyes, filling them up quickly, then releasing a fresh wave across her cheeks. The man gazed down at her with all of the detachment of a doctor performing surgery. The gaze was cold, calculating, inscrutable, and yet it seemed familiar...

Megan dwelt on that familiarity for only a moment, before her panic set in. She tried once more to struggle against her bonds. Gazing down at herself, Megan realized that she was clothed in a simple knee-length dress, not a gown, but an actual dress. It wasn’t a dress that she owned.

“You know, you’ve been exceptionally difficult.” The man with the glasses said after a moment. “Most women would have succumbed to one of my earlier methods.”

The casual nature of the man’s conversation chilled Megan as though she’d stumbled out into winter without a coat. She was simply a subject, an object to him. There likely wasn’t any way to convince him out of whatever he was doing. At least Megan had the satisfaction that she wasn’t giving in easily, she had to at least try to persuade him.

“Who- who are you?” Megan asked, her voice trembling and weak.

“Someone you know.” The man answered cryptically.

Megan dwelled on that bit of information for awhile as the man went back and forth between her and some other part of the room. Most of the time he had a pad, upon which he appeared to be taking notes.

Someone I know?

It sounded ridiculous, because Megan didn’t think she knew anyone this heartless and cold. At the same time, however, it fit with his knowledge of her, it fit with why she felt like he was familiar. The only thing that didn’t fit was that she couldn’t actually place those puzzle pieces together to see the face they were hiding.

A hand was placed against Megan’s shin, its warmth contrasted vividly with the chill inside her. It felt good, which Megan hated herself for. Looking down her body, she watched as the man slid his hand up her leg, and then made additional notes on his pad, removing his hand as though it hadn’t violated her, as though he were simply a medical professional checking for something.

“We need to begin you on laser hair removal treatments immediately.” The man said, though it seemed more to himself than to Megan directly.

He referred to her, but not as though she were there, or as though she was a person who maybe didn’t want laser hair removal treatments.

However, what really got Megan’s heart racing was what came next. The man with the glasses had stepped out of sight again, and, when he returned, he held in his hand a black box with wires trailing from it, attached to electrodes. The box was roughly the size and shape of a remote controller, and had the a similar interface, with a number of buttons with their function written on them, though it was impossible for Megan to read them from her position.

The black box also had a small screen on it, though it was off at the moment. The man set the box down and took out a small tube and squeezed a clear gels onto his right index finger. Carefully, he controlled Megan’s head with his left hand while he dabbed the clear gel on one of her temples. He repeated this process a number of times, all in various spots around her head.

“What is that!?” Megan asked as the man picked the black box back up and began to attach the electrodes.

While Megan again tried to struggle, the man slowly and methodically put on each electrode, holding every single one in place for at least a full half-minute.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.” The man answered after a long silence, completely ignoring Megan’s question.

“You- what?” Megan was more confused than ever.

“I’ve wanted you. Desired you. Ever since we met. It’s curious, actually. I make the perfect women for so many men, but was single myself. My close friends, the ones who know what I do on the side, found it strange that I didn’t just make someone for myself.” The man chuckled, as though sharing some inside joke. “But the perfect woman isn’t just made, she has to be found first.”

The familiarity with which the man spoke caused Megan to shiver again. He knew her, which meant she had to know him, but she had no clue. Megan had no inkling of who this man was, only that she knew she had to recognize him.

“The process is very complicated, and, when I’m done, it’s not something you’ll be overly worried about anyways. Suffice to say, I can adjust and alter the mind. I can make tweaks. I can decrease or increase someone’s intelligence, I can amplify or reduce submissive or dominant urges, I can tamper with someone’s personality traits, but it’s not the same as wiping someone out and starting brand new.”

“You can’t- can’t do this to people!” Megan shouted, repulsed at his casual indifference to changing people. “It’s not right!”

The man paused in his tinkering of the box and gazed at Megan, caught her eyes and stared at her. Again she was felt with a surge of familiarity, but couldn’t place it.

“I can do it. I have done it, I am doing it.” He stated simply, as though he were a teacher answering an incorrect answer from a student. “And while it may not be right, I consider that a matter of perspective. It’s certainly illegal, but money talks.” Then the man chuckled, “or, rather, sex talks.”

“Bastard!” Megan shouted. “You vile, insipid, dung-brained piss monkey!”

The man’s brows lifted and then he chuckled, “creative. I’ll give you that.”

Then the man walked away, leaving Megan there to shout and continue to verbally abuse the man with all manner of invectives. Megan surprised herself at her impressive ability to come up with vulgar insults without using a swear word.

When Megan’s captor returned, he held a ball gag in his hand. There was not even the barest hint of hesitation as he forced the gag into her mouth and then proceeded to clip it behind her head.

“There,” he said, and almost seemed to be smiling, though it was difficult to tell due to the mask. “It’s not like you need to talk any time soon.”

Megan continued to try and shout against the restraint, but the gag was very effective in muffling her cries, quickly discouraging her from that tactic. Instead, Megan returned to struggling against her bonds, hoping that she was, at the very least, weakening them slightly. If she just kept at it long enough...

“Alright. Showtime.” The man with the glasses said, Megan grew still wondering what he meant.

There was almost no warning, as Megan’s captor held his needle out of her sight before quickly plunging the contents into a vein on her arm. The sharp pinch was followed by a faint numbness and the man replaced the needle with a small cotton pad while applying pressure.

Megan didn’t have long to dwell on the man’s expertise. Things began to go fuzzy in her thoughts, which would disconnect after only half a second, and then start up a few seconds later to interrupt a different thought. The world seemed to be spinning around her.

“The reliable precursor to my dream device: my memory modulator,” the man whispered against her ears, “no one has managed to resist this one.”

Then everything went black.