The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I-Toys

By William Lee

XI—

Timory wouldn’t have been the one I would have picked out of a megalomaniac line-up.

He was actually cute—forty-something, going a little bald, muscular, well-dressed, deep hazel-colored eyes, good teeth.

But I’d probably kill him at the first convenient opportunity.

“So this is the fucker that’s been causing all of the trouble?” Gurney said, looking Timory up-and-down.

“Yep,” I said.

“Now what?” Gurney asked.

“I deal with the I-toy manufacturing, we get home, and then I deal with you,” I said firmly.

“Be nice,” Gurney said, “I got you where you needed to be.”

“And you almost ended up sucking your own cock—didn’t I warn you?” I punched him in the chest.

“Yeah, you did,” he said, “but I never listen to pussy like you.” He grinned.

I let it go and instead held the industrial-grade Neuron firmly and told Timory: “Take us to the control area for the I-toys. Now.”

Timory quietly said, “yes,” and moved forward down the zero gee tube, which opened into another large area where blocks of glistening machinery was restrained by long, thin, silver wire in the center of the space. It was truly astounding—seamless panels circumscribed the surfaces of numbered cubes, all interlocked and pervaded by a general low humming. About every half a minute, a folded I-toy was spit out of a cube near the apparent bottom of the ogave-shaped space and sped across the void into a small hole in the axis of the sphere’s bottom.

“Timory, where do those I-toys go?” I asked.

“Down into the PleasureZone. To staff who distribute them in pairs to selected visitors.” He said. That was slightly puzzling—jangling a continuity bell. I had thought they abducted people and processed them in the large cylinder—but that wasn’t jiving with what he had just said and actually made sense. Why abduct when you can just introduce?

“Timory, what’s the area where Gurney and the girl were kept?” I said.

“That’s the holding area. For special testing.” He replied.

“Special testing? Tell me more.” I said.

“We develop new breeds of shadow and move the Integrated Tool to new phases. For example, we’re currently developing Integrated Tool Z,” he droned.

It made sense—before the I-Toy, there was an I-Tox. Probably primitive, but not really.

“We’re trying,” he said, “to develop seamless command and control. The betas are promising. Less externalization—more modifications to sexual organs and genetic structure.”

I looked over at Gurney—he was smiling. And this was, again, bad.

“Timory, did you have Gurney,” I was watching Gurney closely now, edging away, “modified and lie about what you were going to do to him when we spoke?

As Timory replied with a ‘yes’, Gurney jetted over to me and punched me hard, sending me spinning down past the I-toy cubes.

I lost the Neuron somewhere in the blinding light from the pain in the way down.

“Thank you, Gurney,” Timory said, obviously pissed that I’d Neuroned him.

“You’re welcome,” Gurney said, “sir.”

“Fuck!” Was all I could manage.

“Well,” Timory said across the long space of the white spherical area, “it would appear that you have surprised me once again. I’m wondering if you haven’t pulled this trick before. After all, why would I let you go in the first place, memory reprotocoled or not?”

He was smiling as he said to Gurney, “Please suck my cock—and make sure you get my balls, too.” Gurney moved to Timory’s shorts and pulled them down, reaching in to knead Timory’s semi-flaccid member to life.

He deep-throated the cock and I finally vomited—a stream of bile moving outward into the sphere from my hot mouth.

“Seems to me you were willing to let all of this,” he motioned to the sphere, “continue—as long as you didn’t remember you’d found it. You obviously discovered the first—and second times—that you couldn’t stop it. It would also explain why I’ve been so insistent lately that the I-toys cause as little pain as possible when they engage. And why I’ve cut back on research and development.”

Timory kicked over to a wall for stability, Gurney locked over his crotch, head bobbing up and down—I knew he was happy, finally. He’d found his angelic fix—forever.

Funny what you notice when you’re totally fucked: My vomit was gracefully arcing around in the dead space and sliding in a chain of pearly fluid toward a ventilation duct.

“Well, this time, I think, I’m going to personally get you in an I-toy. And I’m having my goddamn CAT hardened—you probably suggested that I shouldn’t after you got away with that implanted Neuron trick the first time. I can’t afford the scrutiny if I’d have it removed—not yet, anyway—but I can’t have tenacious people like you mucking with my mind. Ever. Again.” He said, putting one hand on the back of Gurney’s head, murmuring, “slower.”

I just watched Gurney, proud, fully heterosexual Gurney—an anachronism these days—sucking Timory’s cock like he was born to it. I never should have brought him along—especially because I was almost sure that I loved him.

“So,” Timory said flippantly, the sportsman triumphant I suppose, “do I have Gurney come over there and rape the shit out of your ass until you’re too weak to resist and come along quietly? Or do you want me to Neuron you so you’ll come with me to my office? Your choice.”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck.” It was lame, but all that I could manage.

And it didn’t help one bit, really, because minutes later Gurney’s cock hurt badly when it rammed into my ass, forcing me against the padded wall of the giant sphere.

It didn’t get much better as I got weaker and was easily fucked—in the zero gee—right back toward Timory’s office, my legs flailing, Gurney’s hands on my pussy that was, in spite of itself, growing wet. A reaction I’d seen a hundred times with the CAT IUs—wetness and arousal in the face of sexual torment—but never understood.

At least I could feel it, I knew it was wrong—evil, in fact.

I was proud that I didn’t give Timory the satisfaction of a scream—and I didn’t try to grab any of the hatchways that were within reach when we passed through.

I was on a fucking station—I wasn’t going anywhere anyway.

But as long as I was alive and wasn’t Meat, I’d have a chance to kill or maim Timory—and that kept me going when Gurney’s modified cock grew inside me, became thicker and longer than it should have been. Genetic tampering, no doubt.

But then everything went dark as I felt a wave of discomfort from a Neuron blast spreading out from my neck to fill my skull and douse my consciousness.

Suddenly, there was no pain.