The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Perfume Garden

“A transmitter?” the voice wondered.

Stephibot was sure the presence already knew everything she did, but it seemed to prefer letting the gynoid tell her own stories. Although she had to admit her uninvited ‘guest’ had been something of a god-send when it came to clearing out the malware from Mistress’ servers.

She had never heard of metamorphic virii, not that the thought didn’t make her just a little bit squirmy. And now, some sort of adaptive code was roaming through her neural network, picking apart any software it didn’t recognise and, hopefully, immunising her against further assault.

“Yes,” she finally answered. “Mistress has a sub-cutaneous transmitter for just this sort of emergency.”

The presence didn’t respond, but Stephibot could sense it brooding in a dark corner of her psyche. Emotions that belonged to someone else entirely spilled over, making the gynoid wince. Whatever she was sharing headspace with, it was clearly damaged goods. Worse still, it was probably Mistress’ best chance.

“I have to go,” she continued. “I can’t just leave her.”

“I know,” the voice acknowledged. “Just like I also know that we’re not nearly ready.”

Schematics flowed behind Stephibot’s eyes, revealing the full extent of the damage she had sustained. Self-repair systems were already at full stretch, but angry scarlet still highlighted an alarming number of systems.

“It doesn’t matter,” the robot-girl announced, her jaw set tight. “Mistress is counting on me, and I’m not about to let her down.”

She felt the presence nodding its agreement.

“Okay,” it said after a prolonged pause. “No grandstanding. We slip in, get your Mistress and slip out again with no one any the wiser.”

“In and out, like the wind,” Stephibot smiled.

“Damn straight!”

All things considered, Natalie had to admit, she was having a really bad day. First Shroud had gone AWOL, then Slipstream ran off, (not to mention the whole gratuitous nudity thing) and now, to add insult to injury, Snowblind found herself, well... blind.

The Nordic beauty swept her sword back and forth through the thick, sherbet fog.

“Cypher!” she hissed urgently.

Snowblind waited for several seconds, silently urging her friend to respond. She forced herself to still, not daring to breath as she strained to hear something. But, other than the expected, industrial ambiance, there was nothing.

Well wasn’t that just perfect?

The heroine had no illusions about what was going to happen next. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to fight, but it did leave her feeling more than a little vulnerable. The smart thing would be to retreat. Even if that would mean abandoning her friends.

Of course, the problem with that plan was that she had absolutely no idea where she was in relation to the exit.

The Confectioner kept one hand pressed firmly over his victim’s face, just to reassure himself that she was definitely out cold. Meanwhile, he continued to explore her lush curves, meticulously probing the heroine’s body with his sticky fingers.

He had to admit, it was a pretty good haul of girl-flesh. Three of the intruders were down and very definitely out, and it was only a matter of time before the final heroine succumbed. A smile crept across the villain’s face. He had special plans for the ice-wielding blonde.

Hubris was only one of the Confectioner’s many flaws, but under the circumstances he felt justified. She’d already received a good dose of his sherbet, and far worse awaited her in the bowels of his factory.

Cypher was dead weight, and the villain carefully lowered her to the floor. He bent to collect a small parcel of wax paper, find and unwrapping it by feel despite the swirling, sherbet dust. Inside was a large, spongy blob of pink marshmallow.

Grinning more widely at the thought of another victim falling into his clutches, the villain pressed Carol’s hands into the soft pith. He took his time moulding it, using the sugar-dusted confectionery to trap the heroine’s hands in the small of her back.

Only then did he lift her sleeping form back up into her arms.

His slaves would have the accommodation ready now, and then there was just the small matter of the last intruder to deal with.

He nodded in smug satisfaction, trailing a finger over Carol’s helpless flesh. With these new additions augmenting his already formidable forces, the Anaesthetist wouldn’t know what hit him.

Natalie squinted into the mists, trying to make out something, anything that might give her a point of reference. Perhaps it was her imagination, but the cloud seemed to be thinning ahead and, seemingly without any other choice, she pressed on.

The sharp, sugary bite of the swirling fog seemed to ease, only to be replaced by a stronger and more floral perfume. Natalie noticed a glow ahead and, as she drew closer, the heroine could see the light trying to force itself through the thick air.

Snowblind staggered, and almost lost her footing. Then, as though she was pushing through a heavy curtain, the sherbet seemed to part and she found herself in a surprisingly verdant chamber. The heroine stepped gingerly over the low step that had almost tripped her and took stock of her new surroundings.

Dark emerald grass prickled the heroine’s feet, the individual stalks cracking like glass under her weight. Flowerbeds decorated the room, forming ordered tiers of shockingly bright primary colours. The scent of flowers hung heavy in the air, cutting through the sherbet’s acid tang and adding to the illusion.

Not that it made a difference. Even a casual glance was enough to reveal their true nature. Like something out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the entire ‘garden’ was made out of sweets. Minty scents wafted upward from the crushed grass at her feet and the wide, lollipop flowers seemed to beckon her.

The young woman stared at the faux flowers, wondering at the thread of white that seemed to run through their vivid colours. Natalie looked hard, her eyes beginning to follow the glistening candy.

Why, it almost looked like... like a spiral...

No... please!

“Stephanie?” the voice asked softly.

Brilliant blue light flickered in the darkness, throwing the shadows into frenzied motion. Energy coiled around the silver woman’s arm cannon, and Stephibot let herself drop into a firing stance.

“Steph!” it warned, more stridently this time.

She ignored the urgency the presence lent to that single word, focussing instead on her expanded senses. What on earth was the point in being super-powered if you had to tiptoe around, pretending to be normal?

The gynoid’s hand disappeared behind a ball of super-heated plasma and, with a grimace as the error messages began to crawl across her vision, Stephibot let fly at the weak spot she had pinpointed.

Artificial lightning melted through the reinforced concrete, plunging deep into the concealed basements beneath. Cables flailed wildly, while severed pipework vented clouds of steam that flashed with leaping sparks.

A low groan came from somewhere overhead, evidence if it were needed that the building wasn’t weathering this insult particularly well. But Stephibot wasn’t bothered. So what if the whole place collapsed around her? She could take it.

“Exactly which part of, ‘slip in and out’ did you not understand?” the voice snapped.

Stephibot had no answer to that. Instead, she dropped into the hole her weapon had carved, the edges of which were still glowing. The ‘bot’s combat systems were already online and the presence seemed more than capable of reading her thoughts.

Let it find its answers there. She had more important fish to fry. She needed to find Mistress...

Spice’s head snapped up. The young woman’s eyes were wide and startled. Her gaze darted here and there, before her stare adopted a distant and slightly glassy look.

She had sensed something, a surge of power that felt both familiar and discordant.

The former heroine was still trying to identify what the energy might be, when the whole building seemed to shudder. Dust fell from the low ceiling, and the walls gave an ominous creak. For several seconds Spice held her breath, but it seemed the worse was over, at least for now.

She looked back to Master’s conditioning pod and saw Sugar staring up from their captive’s candy-coated body. Forcing her face back under control, she gave her fellow-slave a nervous half-smile.

“What’s happening?” Sugar asked, the apprehension clear behind her passive expression.

“I don’t know,” Spice admitted, biting her lip. “But I need to check whether Master requires any assistance.”

The other slavegirl nodded and agreement and Spice knew her friend was going to want to come along too.

“You stay here,” she ordered quickly. “Finish preparing this one for her transition. Master gave us instructions and we mustn’t disobey.”

For a moment, she thought that Sugar might press matters. But the mention of Master very quickly cowed the other girl’s rebellious streak.

“Be careful,” Sugar whispered anxiously, before returning to her duties.

If she could just blink, Snowblind knew she could break the spell. The heroine willed her eyelids to close. It should have been easy, a heavy blanket of lethargy had already wrapped itself around her and everything felt so very relaxed and heavy.

Natalie gave a weak sigh, but her muscles had been robbed of their strength and, despite her efforts, the heroine’s eyes remained fixed and focussed on the gaudy, yellow lollipop. She could feel its pull, the unheard whispers seeping into her head and yet couldn’t even summon the will to shudder.

At first she didn’t notice that her arm was moving. It was only when Snowblind began to reach out toward the hypnotic candy and her hand strayed into her fixed field of vision that it became obvious.

The world around her retreated, as though she was sliding back down a long tunnel, through which she was forced to view reality. Natalie could sense her distant tongue licking expectantly over her thin lips. The lurid lollipop just look so delicious.

She willed her arm to stop. But, while her mind continued to scream, her muscles seemed to content to ignore it. Natalie’s fingertips brushed the stiff, cardboard handle, only to have it shaken from her grasping hand as the ground shivered beneath her.

Snowblind had blinked even before her flailing mind started to understand what was happening. The unnatural torpor still had her in its grip. But, with only the pale afterimage of that slowly spinning spiral in her mind’s eye, the heroine could feel its hold on her becoming more and more tenuous.

A soft voice murmured words too quiet to hear and Natalie could feel its gentle insistence. Hadn’t it felt so good to let go? Didn’t she long to bask in that sensation of unworried bliss? What harm was there in giving up a little control, just for a moment?

The heroine sucked her bottom lip, while the scent of flowers embraced her mind. Sherbet flowed sweetly through the girl’s bloodstream, fizzing and popping as it wore away her arguments. Snowblind knew that she couldn’t listen to that seductive, internal monologue. Just like she knew that she mustn’t allow her eyes to open, even a crack.

It meant she had to concentrate. It meant she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted.

Natalie abruptly realised that she couldn’t remember what thoughts she’d just had. Panic took hold of her. What had she missed? What had slipped past her defences? What was it even now forcing her to do?

Her eyelids fluttered, and it took every effort to keep them closed. More thoughts flashed by, unheard and almost unnoticed. Snowblind dug her fingers into the artificial grass, only then realising that she had dropped to her knees.

The desperate heroine started to crawl, hoping she could distance herself from the Confectioner’s trap. Ghost spirals dances slowly behind her eyelids, while her inner voice sang of futility and defeat.

Mewling under her breath, Snowblind inched her way across the grass. Sharp fragments of grass bit into the heroine’s fingers, making her wince. Instinctively she pressed outward with her power, letting the crackle of frost lull the discomfort.

Thoughtlessly, Natalie look down at her clenched fists. Ice was spreading outward across the green-carpeted floor and the heavy perfume had already started to fade. A surge of triumph rose from her belly and she welcomed that sensation.

But there were only so many things even a heroine could keep track of. And, with the Confectioner’s drugs nibbling away at her resolve, it was only a matter of time before she lost track of exactly what she was supposed to be fighting against.

In the end, all it took was a single glance. Natalie lifted her chin, just a fraction, but that was enough. A flash of yellow caught her eye and, with an anguished cry, the girl felt herself being dragged down into the same, sickly sweet vortex.

The blanket of calm once again wrapped itself around Snowblind’s mind, this time sealing her thoughts completely behind a thick wall of warm felt. The proud heroine’s strength poured out through her hands, dropping her onto the blackened grass.

Still her body continued to strain toward the lollipop, unable to look away now, even if she’d had the wherewithal to think about doing so. Her tongue stretched toward the glossy sweetness, as she inched her way across the frost-coated floor.

Sugar hit her palate, the acid, lemon rush blotting out everything else for what could have been anything between seconds and days.

Desire, the like of which she had never known, swamped what little remained of her reason and the heroine forced the lollipop into her mouth, devouring the thick, crunchy candy in four ravenous bites.

The lust hit her like a ton of bricks. Arousal that was so intense it was almost painful burned in Snowblind’s stomach and all she could think about was somehow salving that impossibly agonised itch.

Her cunt spasmed, welcoming the sticky fingers she thrust into its slippery depths and still the need continued to build. Natalie gave a howl of frustration, arching her back and lifting her buttocks from the floor in a frenzied attempt to find the release for which her body continued to scream.

Gleaming amber eyes scanned the room, while Stephibot’s orientation system plotted the most direct route to Mistress’ last known location. Static crawled over her senses, but the presence smoothed away those rough edges, slotting effortlessly into the space the ‘bot’s self-repair systems usually occupied.

Her arm cannon was still cooling down, which gave the gynoid a few moments to take in her surroundings. The villain’s lair seemed to have been decorated in a combination of ‘early sweetshop’ and ‘essence of migraine’. But it didn’t require her exotic sensor suite to know that practically every inch of the old factory would be bristling with traps.

Steam hissed from a cluster of vents in her upper arm and the red tell-tales winked out, one by one. Stephibot grinned and aimed the cannon again.

“Subtle,” the voice mocked.

“Oh yeah,” the gynoid agreed. “And if this is a problem, you should hear me when I really get loud!”

Energy broiled off the super-conductive coils surrounding Stephibot’s arm cannon. Brilliant blue-white lightning flowed into a swirling ball of barely contained elemental fury.

“Steph,” the presence whispered, its tone suddenly very different. “I’m sensing... something.”

The gynoid took a moment to glance at sensors’ readouts, but found only corruption. The signal had been pretty squirrelly since she’d blown her way inside. And yet, somehow, this didn’t feel the same. She muttered irritability, turning her frustration onto the entity lurking within her own processors.

“Anything you can add to that detailed assessment?” she hissed. “You know, like something that might actually be useful?”

Any answer was pre-empted though, when a gleaming-skinned figure stepped into the chamber. Stephibot’s targeting system refused to lock onto the naked woman, not that she needed its assistance at this range.

Electricity rolled around the newcomer’s limbs, the lightning looking eerily like some form of serpent as it writhed and twisted. Static danced through the woman’s blonde hair and a dark, azure fire flickered behind her glassy eyes.

The interference spiked, flinging warning messages throughout Stephibot’s battered cerebrum. Viciously complex viral code poured past the cracks in her defences, corrupting and subsuming as the programs expanded into bladed fractal flowers.

WARNING: UNAUTHORISED EXTERNAL CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.

“Oh,” the voice breathed. “Cock!”