The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Terran Space Marines—Captured and Mind Controlled!

Episode Two, in which our hunky Marines are sent on a Mission.

Imagine a well-drawn, sexy cartoon... you know the style that turns you on... let your mind do the drawing.

You remember Episode One, where we met Lt. Jock Studz and his genetically perfect fellow TSMs. You know what they’re like... those hard young mezomorph bodies; you can see them in your mind’s eye: handsome faces, high ‘n’ tight buzz cuts, broad shoulders, bulging muscles... eyes shining with grit and determination. Nonetheless, the LT and his men were captured by the dreaded Space Pirates of Pinzatz, mind controlled, and turned into lewdly displayed cum slaves, playthings for pirate Captain Kip who exhibits them in his private museum overlooking the gaudy towers of the pirate world’s Capitol City.

Some time has passed...

TITLE PANEL:

As though looking out a ship’s port: the depths of Space... star clusters, great colorful gas clouds... a space ship in the vast darkness. You see the reflection of a handsome, resolute human face in the port. Tattooed across his face and even extending under his close-cropped hair, you can see a nanotat camouflage pattern, shifting with the colors around him.

“Greetings civilians! TSM Sgt. Beater here; Peter A. Beater, originally of Beta Colony. I joined the Terran Space Marines a decade ago to see the worlds. We were posted under Lt. Jock Studz to the all male mining colony of Ophuk, a world with natural Amotryp... it acts like an aphrodisiac... wild, horny place that world!”

“So the Valerian Empire conquers the place an’ we’re abandoned by the F’ing Corp! The greenies put us t’ work in the mines. Our LT, though, got us rescued by this privateer Captain an’ we’ve been his marchin’ Marine muscle ever since.”

“Cap’n Kip treats us real good. We get trained right, lots of exercise, lots of marchin’—sometimes it seems like we march on for days at a time—he keeps us trained to be ready for anything. Sometimes when we’re marchin’ ya mind wanders from discipline and focus an’ ya can sort of see a city out in the desert where we’re marchin’, but Cap says that’s a mirage, so we keep at it, marchin’ like we’re ordered.”

“Then when it’s sack time, the LT marches us to our barracks and the Capn’ll be there, to make sure we all get force fed and showered. Our commander personally latches each Marine down to his bunk and then he talks to us each, kind of quiet and relaxed. That’s the best time, just lying there listening to his voice tellin’ us what great soldiers we are. It’s kind of strange, ‘cause ya hear his voice like in your head, but also you feel his hands and mouth and ya know it’s time for Required Release so ya pump out everything ya got for the Capn! He treats us right an’ sucks it all in... an’ it feels sooo good to fade out when you’re done and he tells ya to sleep...”

[There’s a side vignette on the lower right corner of the panel. Sarge’s manly torso on his bunk; leather strap across his taute belly and arms, latching him down. Another bunk is a couple feet above him, with another hunky Space Marine bound to it. Captain Kip’s hand (you can see his red and white striped signet ring) has reached in, stroking Sarge’s thick, dripping erection. The Captain’s leering head is just moving in for a taste.]

“Ya know, I’m probably talkin’ too much ‘bout training, since that’s classified! Well, ya already met the LT before. Let me intro you to the rest of my Squad! Best bunch o’ battlers ya’d ever want to meet!

SECOND PANEL:

Two rows of Space Marines facing each other; the dozen strong, nearly naked men are covered in nanotats that swirl as camouflage, making the soldiers nearly invisible when in full stealth mode. Now, though, they are in parade mode, bare skin in traditional khaki tones; stiffly at attention, shock rifles slung over their brawny shoulders, clad in just regulation jocks (red and white stripes, just like Captain Kip’s personal flag), khaki utility belts and tan desert boots. You admire the masculine curve of their broad chests, bulging arms and bubble butts.

Lt. Studz is standing at the back and between the two rows, big arms crossed over his massive chest. Sgt Beater is in the front, twisting and leaning toward the viewer, showing off his perfect six-pack, somewhat hairy chest, and faultless, gritting teeth.

“Urrazz! To my right are Private Member and Private Meat.” You notice the two big bruisers. Both have identical, hard looking faces, no hair, lots of upper body muscle, thick gluts and heavily muscled legs. They are the largest Space Marines you’ve ever seen. “They’re like twins—ident clones from some factory that pays its taxes to the Empire in fighter clones. But now they fight for Cap Kip! Across from me is Corporal Jack Whakker. Say ‘Hello’ to the people, soldier!”

You look at the tough-built, lean soldier, his clear eyes focusing directly at you. “Howdy civilian! Captain Kip likes to show us off to you civies an’ th’ other captains! He wants us to be on our best behavior ‘round citizens. So ya got nothin’ to be afraid of here. We’re rough, armed an’ dangerous, but we’re under our Capn’s control! Like he always says, ‘Marine Muscle does what’s ordered!’ Why just a couple weeks ago the Capn had us escort him to some meetin’ with the other captains, marchin’ on either side o’ him, in full battle gear—ya know, boots, utility belts, comm helms, with our laser rifles an’ battle knives an’ shock sticks—they were duly impressed, let me tell ya! Right Sarge?”

“Right ya are! We only had to mess up a couple of ‘em a little an’ then they all listened to our Capn real good! Somethin’ ‘bout command ‘n’ control. He said he was real proud of us that day! Put us on a two-day forced desert march so we wouldn’t get too cocky! But first he partied with us all night as a reward; an’ man, that was some hot time! Nothing like a hard ‘n’ horny TSM squad party! Now we’re here in his space cruiser. Don’t know if Cap Kip told our LT yet what’s the Mission, but ya know, Space Marines go where we’re told! We march anywhere our LT leads!”

“So at the other end of the lines are Privates Rodman, Dickster and the five cadets in the squad. They just got numbers—ya know, ‘Cadet One, do this... Cadet Four, do that...’— an’ they ‘Aye, aye, Sarge!’ an’ hop to it! We work those boys hard, but they’ll get squad names when they become full privates.”

You notice the five youngest TSMs standing between the veterans and Lt. Studz. If anything, they are even more perfect than the slightly older soldiers. Tight muscled young men just from the farms and urbs of the colony worlds. Trained and eager to be recognized as full members of the Squad, anxious to please their Corporal, their Sarge, the LT and Cap Kip. Their eager faces glow with admiration for their seniors.

“Well, ya know, all our names are squad names; we forgot our civy names when we joined the Corp. Yep, we go where our Commander sends us an’ ask no questions. The Squad is our home, our parents, our lovers. The Capn takes care of us. The Capn is always right and we are his muscle! We’re proud! We’re tough! We’re ready! Urrazz!”

THIRD PANEL:

Large side view of the LT and Captain Kip. Sarge is looking at them through a hatchway at the edge of the frame. The LT is standing at brace, his big arms clasped behind the small of his brawny back, his manly chest puffed out. Looking the Captain straight in the eyes. He’s naked except for his standard red and white striped jock and the swirls of nanotat camouflage across his body. His big erection is poking out the top of his jock and it’s beginning to drip preliminary juices.

The Pirate Captain is standing close to the Space Marine, rather more languidly, but with the fingertips of one bejeweled hand massaging one of the LT’s nipples while reaching with the other to the tip of the soldier’s erection to bring a fine stream of man juices to his tongue. He is brushing his still moist fingers across the LT’s upper lip and nostrils, leaning close, saying a word... as the TSM officer’s eyes close.

Captain Kip has just noticed the Space Marine sergeant and is nodding for him to enter...

A small side panel shows Sgt. Beater on his knees before his officers, lapping the LT’s erection, as the pirate speaks, “I know how much you love your LT’s manhood; now make sure to always keep it clean and moist. That’s right. Well, now I suppose I’ll have to keep you all busy, while we make out way to our secret Mission rendezvous. Tell the men to get ready for a Squad Reward Session!”

FOURTH PANEL:

A TSM hunk orgy is in progress. You can imagine the hard-rock music. Captain Kip has taken his big Space Marine officer, Lt. Jock Studz, aside to a round divan, where he has the zonked soldier on his back. The Pinzatz pirate has mounted the LT’s stiff member and is riding vigorously as the soldier bucks underneath. He’s watching, with evident approval, the lewd efforts of the rest of the squad.

All the other Space Marine’s are similarly occupied, with the Sarge, corporal and privates butt fucking the five TSM cadets who are the designated bottom men in their Squad. Sarge has one of the cadets bent over a chair where he is hard thrusting his huge manhood into the soldier’s perfect bubble butt, while the corporal has another cadet on his back on a table, with his muscled legs up and butt just on the edge for ease of deep penetration. The corporal’s big erection is just pushing in. The two huge clone-fighter privates, Meat and Member, are keeping time with each other as they screw two of the cadets lying next to each other on the floor, while privates Dick and Rod are double timing the last of the cadets who is on all fours on a couch. One is thrusting his humungous clone cock into the cadet’s mouth; the other is pumping an identical clone cock into his buttocks.

Captain Kip is thinking, in time to the thrusting of the LT under him, “Awesome exhibit... of manhood... These TSMs... so energetic... ought to display... an orgy scene... doing each other... yes, yes, yes... could alternate... marchin’ display... with fuckin’...”

FIFTH PANEL:

A worn-out bunch of naked Space Marines are standing and sitting around a small ready room with its tall lockers and a few plain benches. They are gearing up for battle. They are putting on boots and helmets and slinging laser rifles over their manly shoulders; adding long knives to the utility belts clasped around their trim waists.

The Sarge is saying, “Ya gotta smear this grease paint on yer jocks so they blend with our nanotats. Help each other do it. We’re going in stealth mode. LT, what’s the scoop on the Capn’s plan?”

TSM Lt. Studz responds to his men, “Cap Kip wants us to ride a stealth glider down to the planet, sneak a couple dozen miles cross country, bust into a warehouse controlled by the wrong side...” Corporal Whakker makes a loud side comment, “Yeah, anybody gets in our way that’s the wrong side!”

Studz grins and continues, “He doesn’t care if we make a mess, but he doesn’t want a bunch of bodies left behind, so we use stun settings and take back any hunks we find as prisoners. We’re looking for some test device that’s supposed to be stored there. It’s a pretty big piece of equipment, over twice man size; called a “De-modulator Module”—whatever th’F that’s supposed to be, an’ we’ve got to haul it out of there; get it back, with no damage, to rendezvous with the Captain’s ship. Simple. Just a walk in the park for Terran Space Marines!”

The other Space Marines are grinning, smacking each other on the shoulders, nodding or giving “high fives” to their leader.

SIXTH PANEL

The TSMs are squeezing into the glider while Captain Kip watches from outside the hatch. Lots of man muscle and swagger. Kip is smiling at them. Studz looks all grit and determination. His soldiers look serious, mixed with some fear on the faces of the cadets. The Captain is speaking:

“You’ll be in steep descent mode; maybe a bit of a rough ride. Fifteen minutes from drop-off to touchdown. During the ride you’ll have ten minutes for Required Release; then it’s focus on the Mission! Make me proud!” Then aside to the viewer he adds, “Yes, and I want to add a bronze plaque to your Exhibit, telling all my guests about your manly exploits!”

In a bottom corner vignette, the glider is diving toward the planet while a tangled, weightless mass of man flesh is complexly intertwined, every mouth seeking a member, following their Captain’s orders.

SEVENTH PANEL:

The glider has touched down roughly among some unearthly trees. The Space Marines, having disentangled themselves from their glider-ride exertions, are forming two lines under Sarge’s directions, directly behind the LT, who is beginning to move out fast, through the trees. You can see the brawny soldiers, nanotats taking on the colors of the trees, literally fading into the woods as they go stealth.

EIGHTH PANEL:

The panel is divided diagonally by a jagged frame. In the upper left smaller panel the captain of the guard, wearing a brown uniform with “Security Chief” emblazoned on the pocket, is shouting into a microphone, “We didn’t see anything until they were on top of us! Thought they were TSMs sent to protect our cargo. Must be some rogue squad... right, I’ve never heard of disloyal Space Marines either! Maybe this is a drill. If not, we need backup ASAP!”

You see, in the other panel, in your mind’s eye, the completely dominant Space Marines. Their laser rifles are at the ready. Their eyes are narrowed and focused. A couple of the Cadets are guarding a large crate that’s lashed to a standard antigrav sled. It’s floating about a foot off the warehouse floor. Stenciled on it you can see an arrow and: “This side up: De-Modulator Module.”

The two huge clone privates are hustling four hunky, brown uniformed security guards toward the LT who has the security chief at gun-point, “We’re here to secure this equipment from the bad guys who are plotting to take it! We’ll need a couple of your guards to help; we need to secure the rest of you in a licked room until later.”

NINETH PANEL:

You see a rocky outcropping behind which Captain Kip’s space cruiser is hidden. The pirate is looking anxiously as the TSMs, weapons drawn, lead the four captive guards who are hauling the sled and large crate. The guards are stout, but obviously struggling with this heavy object. You see Lt. Studz, laser rifle held up high, signaling the pirate captain.

The lower right corner of the panel has an insert frame. You see a row of hardbody Space Marine naked torsos along one side, their manhood bulging their grease paint covered, but still clearly red and white striped jocks. One package has been freed from the jock and the TSM’s erection is thrusting up and out. Captain Kip’s bejeweled hands are fitting a gold band around the cock and balls of that torso.

“Corporal Whakker here. Cap Kip was real happy with the Mission! On his cruiser on the way back to Pinzatz he gave us all Field Commendations an’ clamped these gold rings ‘round what he said were our ‘best parts.’ Calling them ‘Torques of Valor’ he said he wanted his Marine Muscle to wear pirate gold too. The LT said we should ‘wear ‘em with pride.’ An’ we do, ‘cause we’re tough, we’re obedient, we’re ready f’ any Mission the Cap commands! Urrazz!”

“Ya know, not every Mission is as exciting as a full-press Space Marine Raid, but we do every Mission real gung-ho. Even piddley-shit jobs, like, recently, when it felt we had been marchin’ for days an’ the LT led us from the desert where we’d been marchin’ t’ the Capn’s HQ, where some o’th’other captains were hangin’ out, an’ we sure were worn out from marchin’! There was this little stage we marched onto an’ Capn had Sarge drill us all. I saw him take the LT aside and show him to some of the civies there. But I had t’ focus on the drill. After that, Sarge had us strip off our backpacks an’ other gear, even our boots and jocks, an’ we all had t’ go over t’th’ guests, stand at brace, an’ let them inspect us. Some o’them were pretty good cocksuckers so we were all spent by the time the party was over. Capn sure knows how to party us!”

TENTH PANEL:

We are back in Captain Kip’s quiet and murky exhibit room, having just passed through the startling Gates of Pleasure, where two cum slaves are perpetually bound, facing each other, sucking each other. Using hidden tubes and pumps, the cum slaves are continually drained while acting as the doors to the pirate’s fey display. The dim stillness is broken by a number of pools of light in which some motion is taking place. These are the Captain’s prize presentations.

Since you have been here before, you first notice the newest exhibition. Under one bright light, on a small platform just a foot high, you come upon the Captain’s latest display. You see four brawny men, garbed in brown boots, short, tight brown uniform pants with brown leather belts, each holding a black, shinny nightstick.

They have identical close-cropped buzz cuts. They are shirtless, one brawny shoulder thrust forward, beefy legs flexed, as though they were all charging after someone, together. The guards are all looking in the same direction, but their eyes are not visible, covered by wraparound sunglasses; communication plugs, with short antennas in both ears. The guards’ uniform trousers are open and their bulging erections, thrusting out, contrast with the drab material of the pants, nearly appearing to glow in the light.

Captain Kip motions for you to look more closely. He is particularly proud of the new and improved penis pumps he’s had installed on all the exhibits. “We’ve copied the nanotech used by the TSM Corp and created these thin, nearly invisible sheaths that surround and continually stimulate the cum slave’s manhood. You can barely notice the drain tube that clings to the contours of their penises, thighs, legs and down to the pumps housed under the base. With proper mind control input, through those eye pieces and ear sets, we can maintain a high level of sperm production.” He laughs too loudly, “They don’t call us the Fey Cum Pirates of Pinzatz for nothing you know!”

Then he leads you to the big exhibit in the center of the room—his prize Terran Space Marine Marching Muscle display.

You gaze at the amazing and famous TSM hunks put on show before you, and carefully read the glistening, new bronze plaque:

“Herein, on permanent exhibit, are Captain Kip’s own mind-controlled Space Marine Squad; the very Squad whose heroic exploits have included liberating the De-Modulator Device that today protects our fair City and its liberties! This exhibit provides alternative displays of the Squad: even number days are the ‘Marchin’ Marine Muscle Exhibit’ and odd days are ‘TSM Squad Orgy Display.’ Please do not disturb the exhibit. Private, hands on inspections may be arranged by appointment. Cap. Kipster”

You study the awesome, muscular Space Marines, looking longingly at their hard, nearly naked bodies as they led by their handsome leader, Lt. Jock Studz, marching across a desert landscape, on some distant world, where they had been ordered. You can see the determination on their square-jawed visages. You know they are totally focused, in a deeply mind controlled way, on the Mission they have been given. They have the purpose given by their commander and the courage to see the Mission to the end, no matter what.

Even now, an offhand comment by Captain Kip indicated, a new, dangerous Mission was being planned. You can also see their genetically perfect erections, pulsing man seed, as they are continually pumped, as they march onward, oblivious to their true fate as mind controlled cum-slave muscle for the Pirates of Pinzatz.

As you look up toward the glass wall overlooking the Pirate City, you notice the new defense device located on one of the tall towers owned by the Captain, now the First Lord Mayor of the City. His red and white striped flag is flying there.

Mayor Kipster is very popular, with his lavish parties featuring mind controlled, horny slave hunks wrestling and otherwise on display, and those few who sought to oppose him have felt the wrath of his Space Marine Squad. Everything has worked out exactly as he expected. “Yes,” he thought, “nothing like well-trained TSM Muscle to keep things in order.”

[Vignette in the lower right corner, two naked hunks wrestling while gaudy garbed pirates are leering at them.]

Back in the main panel, the Mayor is quietly gazing at his Space Marines marching, ever marching, in place. It looks as though he could spend hours doing nothing else.

To be continued...