The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“What did you find out?” I asked Gennaro as she slouched in her seat, the sunlight streaming in through the foggy haze outside my office window. Gennaro looked a little beat, her uniform’s creases flattened.

“It’s not good news—for you. But I’ll get to that.” She frowned.

“Go on,” I said.

“It seems that the I-toy,” Gennaro said, pointing deep inside the projection of schematics and wireframes of a female that was floating over my desk, “first sends about fifteen probes up into the subject’s body and ‘digs in.’ That takes only about five seconds and is fairly painful.”

Gennaro looked across the desk at me.

“Then,” she said, “it sends a series of finer probes out through the main ones, chemically cauterizing as it goes. Maybe two hundred of them. No wider than a human hair. These seek and find nerve endings—just like you’d predicted—and they lock in. That takes about five or six minutes. In the meanwhile the subject is pleasured by external stimulus—the girls you mentioned—and also by the I-toy itself. The I-toy locks onto and surrounds the clit here,” she pointed through the projection to a small ring, “and then injects it with about fifty dedicated probes, which connect to the nervous system also.”

“A distraction.” I said. “A fuck from inside your clit—like Stim.”

“Yes,” Gennaro replied, “but about five times more powerful than any Stim high. But—as you guessed looking at the schematics—the I-toy is designed not only to pleasure the subject, but also to extend these probes up through the spinal column to the CAT. They interface with the CAT through the maintenance ports and,” she pointed through the schematic to the CAT, “as it were, ‘turn’ the CAT. They open it up and hardwire, biomechanically, new protocols.”

“Hardwiring?” I murmured, remembering the dark abyss of Susan’s eyes. “So, they override—biomechanically reconfiguring the CAT—the existing protocols while the I-toy fucks you from the inside?”

“Sure. It’s like superpowerful Stim, grafted into you. And it’s like the last model of CAT tappers and hijackers. Only this Meatmaker is permanent. It actually does microaugmentation on the CAT itself—and then the CAT alters the brain function here, here, and,” she pointed deep inside the floating green brain, “here.”

“Modifies the CAT.” I said, inwardly shuddering, thinking what a great new perverted trick that was. No overlays here. Complete reprotocoling.

“Yes,” Gennaro said, “I haven’t seen that either—and that’s the dangerous part of all this. No reoverlaying of CAT protocols. The CAT, I guess, will be a new piece of hardware when the I-toy is done.”

“So it’s permanent?”

“For all intensive purposes, yes. The wiring ‘harness’ that’s inserted into the body and the CAT by the I-toy can’t be removed, I think. We’d just link with the I-toy and override it, but the I-toy probably has interlocks to prevent that. When it’s done with the CAT the CAT probably has different interlocks, too. . . .”

I gave Gennaro my “this is really bad” look.

“. . . . And the nervous system’s an issue. The I-toy doesn’t damage it, per se, but I’m fairly sure that it in combination with the microaugmented CAT ‘burns in’ new neural pathways—that’s permanent.”

“I see. So we can’t undo this really bad fucking invasive thing,” I said, “and neither can the CDC or the CDF.”

“No,” Gennaro said, “not yet—probably not ever. I mean, somebody’s really moved to study and evolve the CAT technology way beyond its next version. I’d say this is at least three generations removed from anything we have now. The I-toy, really, is brand new—even though it looks like it’s a second generation piece of hardware.”

“Three generations?” My voice said, cracking.

“For the CAT? At least,” Gennaro said, “and let me say this, Hommard.”

She paused.

“Your Neuron shouldn’t have worked on those girls,” Gennaro said quietly but firmly.

“I see what you mean,” I said grimly, thinking about it for the first time. Really thinking about the situation.

I said, “My Neuron is designed to interface with existing CATs. To stop perps in the act. But the I-toy and its mods are something brand new.”

“That’s exactly right.” Gennaro said, “and you can bet that the designers of the I-toy made sure that they couldn’t be overridden by a year-old Neuron—like yours.”

“That’s for sure.” I said, knowing now that I was at the bottom of a very deep well, looking up and running out of air.

“Watch your back,” Gennaro said, rising from her chair, her back to the floating schematic, “they knew you were coming. I’m surprised you’re not wearing an I-toy and smoking away on some mean, mean cock or clit right now. Again.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah.”