The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Fittingly, the call came at 3:27 am. I was eleven beers through a B movie on basic cable.

“Hello?”

“Sir, you are needed.”

“Damn it Jim, how many times do I have to tell you to not call me sir? Where do I report?”

“Sorry sir, pick-up will be in fifteen minutes. They are sending the Rook.”

“Okay, I’ll be ready.” I hung up the phone and stumbled towards the bathroom. I had enough time to shower, scrape three days of beard off my face, and dress in my combat basics. While grabbing my backpack and three bags I could feel a low rumble shake my building. I locked my door; no reason to forget the basics in a calamity, and trotted towards the plane. The rear ramp was down and two nervous looking officers were standing outside. Granted it has folding wings, but I don’t know how they landed it on a city street.

“Sir, do you need help stowing your gear?”

“Nope and don’t call me sir,” I said, stomping up the rear ramp. I could hear it closing behind me as I took my seat. The nose of the plane lifted and I could feel the acceleration pushing me into my seat.

“You can prep after we reach S3.”

“Isn’t that illegal over continental air space?”

“Yes, special dispensation this trip.”

I gave a low whistle through my teeth. The government will be paying for windows in a five mile radius. This was going to be interesting. We spiraled upwards into sky. The low thrumming increased to a frantic pace, elongated, and shattered with a deep boom. I swear my soul vibrated.

“We are in route 15 miles north/northwest of Missoula. You have 45 minutes to prep.”

I unbuckled my restraints and unzipped my bags. I’d done this enough my body moved of its own accord. I removed my jeans and shirt. Donned the ultra light thermals and redressed. I dug out and strapped on my impact armor. It had stamped musculature, because I figure if I don’t have any my armor might as well. Plus, studies prove it’s intimidating and I’m not one to argue with Spartan logic. Everything was black—not to be all macho, it’s simply harder to see in the dark. Next were my tools, then the longest part, my knives.

“How many of those do you have sir?”

“15”

I ran through my mental checklist: three shotguns, four pistols, explosives, special munitions, and sword. Yup, that was everything. I bear no notion of being a samurai, but when things go bad, the simple approach is best.

“Five minutes to Earth, sir.”

I sat down in my chair. The two shotguns and the sword sheath felt natural on my back. We landed smoothly. The ramp was lowering as I grabbed my rifle and war goggles. It took me years to figure out how to strap on all my gear and not sound like a big mess of keys when I sneezed. I stepped out into a crazed ant’s nest of men in military uniforms. Men and women from every service were present. I could almost smell the fear and panic in the air. A man covered in medals approached me and extended his hand. He may have been small, but he looked as if he was carved out of granite.

“Good to see you Graham. How was the movie?” he asked.

“Good to see you as well, sir. I can’t believe they asked him to go back into the house to get that damn dog. Moral of the story: don’t get married, sir.”

“A little late for that, but I’ll keep it in mind.” He gave me a wry smile.

“What have we got?”

“Big trouble. The craft landed 15 hours ago. So far it’s stopped everything and everyone we’ve thrown at it. We’ve lost some good men.”

“Anything I need to know?”

“If I had anything, would it help?”

“Probably not. Let’s get started.” He led me up a small knoll. When we reached the top I had to admit I was shocked. The ground was scorched, torn, muddied, and littered with small fires. The air smelled of gunpowder and ozone. I could see a large ship at the edge of the field.

“I suppose I go there.”

“Godspeed Graham. Come back to us on this one.”

I turned, patted him on the shoulder, and started my trek to the objective. Whistling a few bars of Beethoven’s fifth along the way. The ground was dotted with spend munitions, upturned trees, and large boulders that looked as if they had been pulled from deeper within the earth.

As I got closer I started to notice the bodies. Men in many different colored uniforms. I always loathed this part. Yeah, I was the second to last line of defense. Yeah, I knew being summoned meant others had failed, but seeing that kind of failure first hand still stung.

Once I passed through the fallen soldiers I noticed bodies of another type. Cloaks, masks, and insignias were everywhere. Those rare ones among us that possess unique abilities, the champions,had come, tried, and they too had failed. I passed several that I knew by first name. Good, honest, decent men were lying broken in the dirt.

Under the wing of the ship was untouched grass with what appeared to be a large silver structure. As I approached it became clear the object was a throne. Along its base were twenty or so women, kneeling, bare-chested, and collared. This was the fate of the female champions. Well, so much for the mystery of the alien’s sexual preference. Nice rack on White Star—how’d she been hiding that? Blue Virtue had nipple rings, with flower jewelry dangling from them. Honestly, didn’t expect that. Each had a purple gem glinting on the left side of her nose and White Star had a gem glittering at the base of her bottom lip.

“I took her first and wanted something to remember it by,” said a smooth voice. It snapped my eyes back to the throne. The roaming lights washed across her. Apparently aliens are 5″10′ and look like Asian women with purple eyes. She flowed down the stairs with an impressive grace. Her body was exactly between slim and buxom, and her hair glittered in the harsh light. Her English had a soft Spanish accent. She must have pulled the language from Wester’s mind. I’d noticed her amongst the prisoners.

The alien? She’d be hot if I were into that whole exotic, hauntingly beautiful thing. Her gear seemed piecemeal even thought all of it was a deep red. Granted she wasn’t from around here, but her torso armor struck me as masculine. The boots on her feet were bulky. I would have expected elegant. She reached down and touched the cheek of one of the women. The former champion responded by rubbing her face against the hand like a pet cat would. “Bah, so they sent another man.” She put her left hand on her hip and made a dismissive gesture with her right.

“Well, pardon me all to Hell.” I found a large upturned slab of stone, leaned my back against it, pressed the sole of my right boot to it, lowered my chin to my chest, and watched her out of the corner of my eye. It was my cool, nonchalant pose. I wish I had brought toothpicks. Chewing on one of those would have been cool.

“And you are?”

“A guy from Mouse Jaw. A warrior poet. A fighting dreamer.” I deadpanned

“Your fire throwers, beam emitters, and elemental shapers proved ineffective. How do you hope to succeed where the others have failed?”

“I’m aware and I have a knack for staying alive.”

She threw he head back and laughed. It was a tad maniacal but still kind of charming.

“I’m 327 years old. I’ve witnessed catastrophes, epidemics, and wars. Yet, here I am,” I said.

She just shrugged. “You’ll die like the others.”

“Perhaps. Let me save us both some time. I do enjoy the banter and your voice is quite pleasing, but I have a job to do.” Her eyebrows climbed up her forehead. I pitched my voice higher. “You will kill me like some kind of insect and then enslave my planet.” I returned to my normal voice. “Since I only see you, I’m going to assume you are the last of your race, yes?”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together into a thin line.

“You selected this planet due to physiological compatibility. Hence why you are keeping the women.”

“They are mere trophies and they please me.”

“Your own demented sock puppet theater? The choice of landing spot also leads me to believe you’re alone. A proper, fancy invasion would start with a large city. I’m also going to guess that with such quiet fanfare you are running from something. Probably the reason for your endangered species status, yes?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared daggers at me.

“That’s all I needed to know. I walked past the bodies of several men I considered friends.” I snapped the breach of my rifle shut. “Kindly step away from the innocents so I can shoot you.”

She moved and she was beyond fast. I saw her hand blur. A blade impacted and sank deeply into my acceleration rifle. Bah, that was my favorite rifle. I threw it aside, drew the first shotgun, and fired a couple rounds. I wasn’t even close. I pulled down my war goggles and tossed out a strobe grenade. Even with the existing light it was flashing brightly enough to break up the fluidly of her movements. It was completely in my mind, but it made her feel slower.

I fired a couple more rounds and they stopped short. A defensive shield? I drew and threw a ceramic knife. She grabbed it out of midair and lazily tossed it behind her. She gave me a smirk and I felt something skitter across the surface of my mind.

Two blades whizzed by my head. The third clipped and removed part of my left ear. Damn it, now I was ugly. Another left a wet furrow along my jaw. Two more blades impacted my chest, but did not deeply penetrate the armor. She was toying with me. I dropped my shotgun, grabbed the one with hardened rounds, and fired. Nope, they stopped short as well. She gave me a smirk.

I discarded that gun and grabbed the one strapped to my thigh. It was time for the depleted uranium. These rounds fired at an incredible speed. Not quite as good as the accelerator rifle, but still impressive. My second round caught her in the lower abdomen. She stumbled and I swear her eyes glowed. I felt a much harder push against my mind. Being alive a few centuries allows for a very strong sense of self. I stepped aside and let her assault hit my mind and pass through it. I examined the command: “I (something unpronounceable) am your master. It is your will to serve me.” OK, so that’s how the women champions were tamed. She must be powerful. There were a few champions with psychic abilities.

I tilted my head to the side and said, “I think not.” She gave a feral growl and stocked in. Damn, she was too quick, and was now too close for the uranium rounds to get up to speed. I tossed the weapon aside and drew the molecular sword. I could cut through just about anything, except the sheath. I asked one of the tech guys about it, but stopped listening after the fourth polysyllabic word.

My old sensei told me that hand to hand combat could be summed up into three simple rules:

1. Be alert.
2. Don’t get hit.
3. Kill the other guy first.

If he were still alive I would love to discuss the intricacies of the second rule. Pivot left, step inside her strike, block, now pivot right, and slide to that side. Now time to slash. I missed. She was amazingly fast. I made a few internal adjustments and picked up half a step on her. In thirty minutes I was going to be ravenously hungry.

“Very impressive,” she said.

I have a shrug. “I have my moments.” Half a step was still not enough, though. I was a mouse, she was that cat. She caught my left wrist, twisted quickly, I felt it break, and dropped my sword. I was able to bring my right elbow across and hit her. She chuckled as she ran a finger over her cheek.

“I think I’ll keep you as a pet.”

She caught me with her next strike. That cost me two good ribs and I stumbled. Her fist hit me squarely in the jaw. I went down in a heap. I was afraid to check my teeth with my tongue for fear of pushing them out by accident. A command to obey hammered against my mind and caused me to wince. She grabbed me by the front of my armor and hoisted me up to her eye level. Lovely, she only needed one arm to do it.

“You tried, it was pathetic, but you tried. I promise I treat my pets well. I’ll brush your hair and dress you in pretty things.”

“Just who the hell do you think I am?” I pulled my vibration knife with my good hand and sunk it deeply into her thigh. She hit me with a backhand that made my world go white. Yeah, I’ll admit it. I got bitch slapped by an alien. What of it?

I was lying on the ground considering my future dental bill and imagining my insurance company explaining they didn’t cover physical abuse by alien women, when I felt another mental assault. I could feel her shock and anger. Probably wasn’t used to getting stabbed by mice. Again I stepped aside and let it enter. She was sloppy with this command. “I am your master. You exist to serve me.” I moaned and tried to move. Big emphasis on try.

Well Graham, this might finally be it, I thought. You had an amazingly average run. I felt the alien create a mental link with me. It oozed confidence. She was probing my mind, checking to see the thoroughness of her attempted reprogramming. Her previous command was still rattling around in my mind, so I ensured it touched the link. I felt a flash of panic and she withdrew. I tried to take a breath, but I shuttered. Why did it feel like I was trying to breathe underwater? Hot hands touched my face.

“Master. Oh, Master you are hurt. Be still. I’ll help you.”

I coughed up teeth and a lot of blood. Damn it, now I was uglier. This isn’t good. Then everything went dark.

I opened an eye to find a very fuzzy purple-eyed Asian women hovering over me. She took her sweet time getting into focus.

“Master! You are awake!”

Huh, hell seemed awfully shiny and silvery. Honestly, I’d expected more fire. Lots more fire.

“Well Graham, you did it again,” said the little granite general. I turned my head. He was sitting on a chair off to my right.

“Yes sir, I try sir. Very close this time.”

“Yes, we watched her carry you into this ship. We weren’t sure what happened. Took us two hours to muster up the courage to knock. It appears you’ve found yourself a pretty alien Nightingale, Graham.”

I returned my eye to my former adversary. She had a purple gem on the left side of her nose. I didn’t remember that from before. I was so tired I lifted a pensive eyebrow. It was easier than talking. She was sitting on the side of my bed with her hand resting on my chest.

“Master, my medical bay had to learn your species so that slowed your treatment. It’s doing its best to heal you. Knitting your face back together will take another few hours. Repairing your lung will take one of your days.”

“Master?”

“Yes, your will is now my will.”

“The women outside?”

“Since I serve you they serve you.”

“Let them go.”

“I can’t master. Their obedience is permanent. Nor can I send them away. To be absent from you means death.”

“How many?”

“26”

Great, my life now included 27 women. “General, would it be possible for this mission’s payment to be tendered in shoes?”