The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Crescent City Stories: What the Villains Did Next

Leap of Faith

“Stand aside!” Stephibot snarled, lifting her arm so it pointed at the naked woman.

The gynoid was at least peripherally aware of the battle going on within her systems, but couldn’t follow the ebb and flow of attack and resistance. What was all too clear though, was that she was losing.

“Talk to me,” she subvocalised, while her imperatives engaged in a furious debate.

“We have to leave,” the presence answered after a moment. “Now!”

Stephibot shook her head, straining to keep the cannon on target. She’d already disengaged the safety-interlocks, so even without a solid lock she could still blindfire her missiles. But, no matter how hard she tried, the gynoid simply couldn’t convince her programming that the hell she wanted to unleash was compatible with the necessity of preserving life.

Still smirking, the nude woman moved a little closer. The flickering light only served to highlight her body, drawing attention to how it glistened as though coated with oil.

“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice gently mocking. “You’re threatening me with that?”

The lightning flared brighter around her, arcing overhead and strobing Stephibot’s world into a jerky, stop-motion judder. Another sub-processor dropped off the network. Damage assessment software insisted it was still active, but suddenly its functions were denied her.

“Stephanie,” the presence urged. “Please... run!”

Her eyes narrowed, irritation knotting her belly. The ‘bot had no intention of backing down. So what if Lady Godiva here could call up a pretty light-show? The voice had said she was immunised against another information attack and Stephibot would like to see the woman shrug off a plasma blast.

And yet, a small note of caution sounded somewhere deep beneath her layers of conditioning. The presence knew something, it certainly knew more than she did.

“Why,” she demanded. “Who is she?”

“She’s stronger than we are,” the voice replied. “I’m sorry, Steph. But, if we fight, we’ll lose.”

Error reports were coming thick and fast, all but overwhelming the gynoid’s ability to respond. Her defensive software was doing an incredible job. It just wasn’t nearly good enough. She wasn’t nearly good enough.

Stephibot ground her teeth together, wincing as metal squealed against metal. Another two firewalls collapsed and the gynoid’s world slowed to a glacial crawl. Viral code spilled into her awareness, subverting and co-opting as it went.

But none of that made any difference. She simply couldn’t go, and not just because her firmware said so. Stephibot genuinely cared for her Mistress, at least that’s what her emotions were telling the statuesque ‘bot.

“You can’t help her,” the voice explained with surprising gentleness. “Not if you get shut down again. If we’re going to free your Mistress, we have to run... now!”

Stephibot shook her head more wildly, as though she could dismiss the chaos in her brain with a simple gesture. She let out a frighteningly organic scream of frustration, which was almost immediately drowned out in the howl of her arm cannon discharging.

Another bank of warning messages flared behind the ‘bot’s eyes, but she wasn’t listening. Instead she was staring at the naked woman and the electricity dancing around her slender frame. The gynoid’s diagnostics insisted that her attack had hit, and yet, there the woman stood, bold as brass and twice as sassy.

“Give,” the blonde shouted, spitting the words from her full lips. “It... Up! Do you really think you could harm me? With your lightning gun? Do you believe you can stand against me, you silly ‘bot? I am the Mistress of electricity... I am...”

The woman’s voice trailed off, and something that might’ve been fear crawled behind her glassy eyes.

It lasted perhaps a fraction of a second, but Stephibot was certain she hadn’t imagined it. Then, the woman’s expression changed again, the same dark fire lit up her features and she seemed to inhale the lighting into herself.

“Steph!” the presence practically screamed. “Try to go limp.”

* * *

A second, more intense vibration ran through the basement floor, shaking more plaster from the low ceiling. The Confectioner swallowed his anger, but never slowed his relentless stride.

What was it with these bloody people?

Sounds of battle drifted through the villain’s lair. The screeching whine of discharging energy weapons merged with the harsh crackle of Spice’s metahuman powers. And every explosion made him wince a little more.

He really didn’t want to have to relocate again. A sweet factory was such a perfect base of operations, the Confectioner just hoped that Spice wasn’t going to flatten it in her eagerness to help.

Finally the villain reached his destination. The heavy, steel door swung open easily and he slipped inside. Levers dotted almost every surface, leaving only a central space for the optical surveillance system.

Safely ensconced in his Sanctum Sanctorum, the Confectioner began operating the complex mechanism. He stared into the lens, stretching his vision through the fibreoptic cables and seeking out his slave.

The villain blinked, adjusting the view-finder before looking again.

He didn’t recognise the chrome-coated woman, but knew immediately that this wasn’t his kind of fight. The Confectioner didn’t ‘do’ robots, in any sense of the word. It wasn’t that the silver Amazon wasn’t absolutely gorgeous, it was just that metal and chocolate didn’t work.

Not that he needed to worry. Spice clearly had everything under control. Just so long as she didn’t end up bringing the house down in her enthusiasm.

* * *

A bolt of lightning so brilliant it seemed almost solid flared in the dim light. A sound like ripping cloth reverberated through the small room. It seemed to go on and on, growing louder and more strident.

Energy splashed against Stephibot’s hardfield. Bright tendrils of electricity clawed at the transparent shield, as though probing for weakness. The gynoid felt the shock of impact and then she was hurled backward, unable to brace herself against the sheer force of the attack.

The tearing sound became a howl and that was when Stephibot realised she was screaming. A second, weaker collision lit her vision with errors and, for interminable instants, the ‘bot had no idea where she was.

Brick dust coated her polished skin, and the pall of ozone hung heavy in the thick air.

“Stephanie!” the voice snapped and the ‘bot was sure it wasn’t the first time the presence had tried to catch her attention.

Belatedly, the gynoid realised that she was lying sprawled on her back. She could already feel the dents in her armoured chassis beginning to heal, but everything seemed to happening far too slowly. The stream of error messages weren’t telling her anything she didn’t already know, so Stephibot shut them down.

She lifted herself up, stumbling a little as her gyros tried to recalibrate. Debris lay strune across the concrete floor and Stephibot found herself looking back through a wide hole in the factory’s heavy wall.

“Steph!” the presence screamed.

“What?” she answered, not bothering to subvocalise.

“You had me worried there, girl,” the voice answered, its relief very obvious. “Now listen up. The good news is that we’re still functional... barely. And she seems to have given up trying to subvert your systems.”

“And the not so good news?” Stephibot asked quietly.

“That wasn’t nearly her best shot,” the presence admitted. “Did I mention that we really need to get out of here?”

Stephibot glanced upwards. She’d already proved that the building’s structure was weak enough to punch through. But, with warning lights clear across the board, the gynoid wasn’t sure just how much more punishment she could take.

The crackle of electricity snapped her attention back to the opening she had smashed through the nearest wall. Lightning arced outward, skipping across the floor and painting charcoal spiders over pale concrete.

REROUTING POWER: PLEASE STAND BY...

WARNING: LIMITERS DISABLED—SAFETY PROTOCOLS NO LONGER ENFORCED

ERROR

POWER OUTPUT NOW AT 110%

WARNING: OVERLOAD IMMINENT

CRITICAL CORE FAILURE IN FIVE SECONDS

ERROR

ERROR

“What the f...?” Stephibot gasped as new energy surged through her metal frame.

“Jump!” the voice screamed.

Even the thought of abandoning Mistress was enough to cause her almost physical pain. Logic played no part in her responses, this was hardwired into her crystalline core and felt all but impossible to resist.

But the other being sharing the ‘bot’s headspace seemed to understand her quandary. Instead of allowing Stephibot to come to her own decision, the presence took matters into her own ephemeral hands.

What little anger she might have felt at having her autonomy taken away, evaporated under the sense of utter relief from her ambivalence.

The ceiling seemed to leap toward her, even before the startled gynoid realised she’d flexed her knees. Myomar contracted, launching Stephibot upward, while the air around her warped and shimmered.

* * *

Tearing at the fragile pink cocoon helped to work off some of her frustration. But what Sugar really wanted was to rush to Master’s aid. She knew her own powers weren’t at all suited to combat, and yet that knowledge did nothing to assuage the young woman’s guilt.

Dark skin emerged from beneath the candy floss and Sugar’s touch grew less frenzied. Almost gently, she peeled away the woollen, sugar strands, exposing silken hair matted with the sticky confectionery.

The woman face beautiful and exotic, her lips full and pouting in her repose. Sugar softly stroked her captive’s cheek, before looping the neck restraint carefully around the woman’s throat. Next the enthralled ex. crime-fighter slid the ring-gag between her captive’s lax lips, making sure to position the feeding pipe so it pressed down on her tongue.

Now Master could administer whatever treats he wished, and the woman would have no way to resist. Sugar smiled at the thought of what was going to happen to the helpless heroine. Her hands wandered lewdly over the woman’s sweet flesh, stroking and petting obscenely as she prised free all four candy-coated limbs.

More straps soon trapped the captive in place, arms by her sides, legs spread wide and Sugar made sure to buckle each restraint nice and tight. A thick belt removed the woman’s ability to do more than strain against her bondage and then, all that remained was to ensure she was properly plugged.

Sugar collected a thick, black jelly dildo and rested it against the gaping entrance to the woman’s cunt. The heavy gel began to melt as it came into contact with the captive’s helpless juices and that was enough to ease its slow passage into the unconscious heroine’s heat. Everything else would be handled by the pod’s automatic systems.

Sugar bent down and lightly gag-kissed her sleeping charge, enjoying the feel of the stringent gag as her tongue probed. Eventually she was forced to break off, licking her lips avidly in search of more of the sweetness coating the other woman’s skin.

Sugar’s fingers lingered over the captive heroine’s warm skin, stroking absently for long minutes before she finally gave a low sigh and reluctantly swung the pod’s lid down.

There would be plenty of time to play later”, she reminded herself. “And I still have the other heroines to prepare.

The enthralled slave gave a chuckle, as she began to suck her fingers. It was true what they said, there really was no rest for the wicked.

* * *

Her eyes weren’t deceiving her, it was the same ‘bot.

Spice couldn’t understand it, but the truth was right there, dragging itself back onto its feet.

The same sense of familiarity was teasing her and for some reason that wasn’t something she wanted to explore right now. Physically, the ‘bot was almost identical to the one she’d encountered in the Gadgeteer’s base. And, the battle-damage that marred its similarity was repairing itself even as she watched.

But the silver woman had obviously gotten herself some upgrades since the last time they met.

Spice took hold of her power, wishing that Master would trust her enough to run some sort of generator. Not that it really mattered, she had more than enough energy to melt the intruder into slag.

Wistfully, the enthralled woman tried one final push at the gynoid’s security programming. Fragging such a pretty ‘bot would be a waste...

Her talent skittered over the surface of the ‘bot’s defences, attack programs and countermeasures fighting each other to a standstill. Spice recognised the taste, even if the knowledge did slip further away from her, each time she reached for it.

Fear formed a cruel knot in her belly, flooding her body with primitive flight or fight. Spice pulled back, anticipating Master’s displeasure before her mind could wander into forbidden territory.

She growled, directing her anger at the anonymous ‘bot and power surged into dazzling brightness.

And then, unbelievably, the gynoid launched herself up and through the ceiling.

* * *

Stephibot could feel the panic pouring off the presence and stopped trying to analyse. The alarms were a constant banshee wail, but she ignored them. Somehow she managed to roll, absorbing some of the impact as she burst through hardened concrete and up into the haze of a Crescent City night.

Metal fingers sunk deep into the tarmac beneath her, and she used those handholds to lever herself up.

“Am I to assume that you have some sort of plan?” she wondered, her voice immeasurably tired.

“Yeah,” the voice answered eventually. “We’re going home.”

The ‘bot watched the warnings flicker out, one after the other and felt herself begin to relax. She was almost too distracted to register what the presence had said.

“Home?” she whispered. “That’s your plan? I left my Mistress back there...”

“I know,” the presence agreed, its tone placating. “And I’m sorry, but we can’t beat Ampere.”

“Ampere?” Stephibot wondered. The name seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“Are you going to just keep repeating everything I say?” the presence giggled.

“Little Miss Lightning Bolt?” the gynoid snapped.

“She too strong for us,” the voice explained. “So we need to fight smart and that means going home.”

“You sound like you know her,” Stephibot mused. “Do you two have a history.”

“You could say that,” the presence answered. “She’s me...”

Stephibot waited for the punchline, her mind still reeling. But it seemed that was the limit of what her guest was willing to offer. She was about to demand an explanation, when a stream of data-packets emerged from somewhere deep inside her crystal core.

New information began to unfurl inside the gynoid’s mind and her orientation system grabbed hold of it immediately. A hastily plotted route appeared in a small pop-up window and Stephibot stared at the marked location.

“That’s not home,” she whispered.

“It is,” the voice replied. “Just not yours.”

To be continued...