The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ah life, that horribly complicated mess of stilted hopes, raw uncertainty, and God knows whatever else. Buddha knows that I don’t. Expect too much from it and you’re bound to be disappointed and/or fucked. Expect too little and you’ll quickly find yourself a depressed son of a bitch. But every once in awhile (and by “once in awhile” I mean almost fucking never) shit just works out in the best kind of way you could hope.

In other words the aliens were stupid, and I mean horribly, retardedly stupid. I mean what do you do when you hear a string of gunshots, and a muffled cry for help? Do you A: get the fuck out of there and call for reinforcements? Or do you B: Get out of your spaceship and investigate what happened, leaving your laser pistol all by itself on the console whereby you have no means whatsoever of defending yourself? Guess which ones the Kalarians did? Not like I should be bitching or anything, but the way it played out was just so unusually fortunate that it kind of had me do a double take. I just couldn’t believe it. As I loaded up the M16’s, TNT and homemade napalm with Julie I found myself wracking my brain to understand. My inborn skepticism screamed at me as we hid the bodies amongst the trees of the Hoyt arboretum. I was expecting some kind of trap; a fleet of ships dropping out of the sky, MC’d police driving up in squad cars to arrest us, a couple of angry pedestrians trying to council us out of our unfortunate decision to stick it to their masters , something. But nothing happened. Even those rare visitors that crossed our path as we stood by the ship didn’t even pay us a second glance.

Were they really so full of themselves and their technology that it couldn’t enter their mind that someone could beat it? That possibility existed that someone could be missed? And that person might want to enact some retribution? (After the sex, and drugs, and the love thing happened of course.) That was the only thing that made sense to me. And while I thank Science for my good fortune I was left wondering when it would give out. My precautions were good, thoughtful planning and all, but at the end of the road I assumed it would all just be a suicide mission. But I was getting ahead of myself. There were plenty of things that could go wrong and about just as many that should.

Fuck up chance #1: I’d crash the alien ship just as likely as take it up to the sky.

Nope. I can’t explain why, but the controls seemed to all make sense to me. The shifting was smooth. I knew somehow to disengage the antigrav before firing off the thrusters and shooting up into the clouds. I knew sliding my finger along that part of the console would increase the propulsion thereby increasing my speed. And somehow I even knew what buttons activated what pathetically small weapons array existed on this ship. It was all so fucking natural to me. And there was no way that it could be possible. My eyes grazed over the tens of glowing buttons and luminous globes and angular doodads; nothing being tagged in any kind of language I could understand. All of this shit was way too complicated for someone to just “pick it up.”

“Have you flown one of these things before? How do you know what button does what?” I could hear Julie saying from behind my back.

Did I make her stupid or was she normally that way? I forgot. “Must be all of the videogames I played, you know how one thing leads to another.” By the way I knew that to be a complete and utter lie.

“Oh my God!” she cried with a gasp.

I started. What terrible thing had-oh…yeah…Wow. My eyes followed Julie’s, turning to the viewing screen. I stared awestruck with her as the last tendrils of Earth’s atmosphere parted and I took in the glory of the open stars. The ship’s system altered from a slight rumble to complete silence as we entered the vacuum of emptiness, adding to that moment. Imagine the night sky far from any kind of habitation on a clear night standing on the top of a mountain so that the air is thin and multiply that feeling times a thousand. The implacable, eternal way the stars stared at me, the sheer scope and silence of the nothing around me, and yet there was more than nothing, there was everything. Each bead of light seemed to have its own character, a different kind of twinkle, a color slightly off but undeniably different from the stars around it. They were like a sky full of the most beautiful jewels I had ever seen in my life. They were a community of places, of peoples, of life, of unknown promise. It was a story. It was different. It was amazing. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. And it almost saved me from making a smart ass comment in this paragraph; yeah, that awesome. Let me get caught now. The thought twinkled in my head. I’d seen something that made this whole cockamamie plan worth it. I almost didn’t give a shit, almost.

I fired off the homing beam (also knew how to work it) and it shot out past the Earth’s horizon, guiding me back towards what I assumed to be the Mothership. My craft followed course smooth as glass. I was practically under autopilot now. This was easy, but I couldn’t let myself get too excited here, I mean there was still so much more that could go wrong. My hands were practically (ok really) shaking as they hovered over the console.

“Riccckkkk…” I could hear Julie moaning to me from behind her voice dripping with arousal. I could feel her arm wrapping around my chest, wet tongue pressing against my neck.

Not now woman.

Fuck up chance #2: Aliens would see a ship making an unscheduled approach, realize something is up and send ships to intercept me.

“Duran Igris Coppo Klaxxon you are clear to land in hangar seven. Happy returns” was chimed over the comms.

And I still couldn’t believe it. What the hell was wrong with these guys? Couldn’t they see all of the unavoidable mistakes that I was making? Wait a second what the hell was wrong with me? I mean this was sweet. If they were going to leave themselves open like this it just made my job that much easier. Of course there was the question of my job. I mean even if I did rescue Alicia’s father what was I going to do next? How far could this little ship of mine go on its own? If not very far was hiding up in the mountains even a viable alternative? They’d find me sooner or later. They had to. Take a deep breath Rick. You still have a long way to go, plenty of opportunities for this plan to go south. To be fair though of course, the entirety of my “plan” had involved just getting a spaceship. Everything else was just playing it by ear. I forced my mind to quiet, which only kind of worked, damn nervousness coupled with a brilliant mind. Why couldn’t I just be okay with almost certain failure?

The hangar doors opened at my approach, an infinitely small access when taken in the breadth of a mothership that had to be bigger than Mt. Everest. Helluva a way to intimidate somebody. Helluva a way to make your little plan look ridiculously smaller. Deep breath, ease that tremoring in your body, fuck it all. I had to remind myself. It didn’t matter. This was for me. This was for my self satisfaction. The outcome was irrelevant.

I didn’t have anything else to do shipwise before we landed. It was five, maybe ten minutes till we hit ground. It was time to suit up.

I turned to Julie, “Alright chica, let’s get our shit together.”

A smile crossed her face as she reached for the sea bag, the M16s, the ammunition and the explosives. “Rock n’ Roll?”

“We’ll see.”

She scoffed, “Let yourself be excited for once Rick, everything else from here is mostly luck anyway.”

Fuck up chance #3: All of those- you know what? Julie just made a very good point. Rock n’ Roll.

I had a bandolier with six mags in it and an assortment of frags and flashbangs. Julie was my ammo bitch/demo cow. She had extra mags and the majority of the explosives. I even gave her an M16, though I knew she couldn’t shoot for shit. I figured that it was better that she has one than not. Yes the Kalarians had their laser rifles and they were bright and shiny, and I could have used one, but I just didn’t trust the tech. I wanted to stick with what I knew. And my uncle(Bo from San Antonio, how awesome is that?) had given me solid experience with them. I knew how to load, fire and maintain them. I wasn’t even a bad shot. Some might call him a secessionist/guerrila, but I just thought he was cool. I like to think that I inherited my healthy distrust of authority from him; because my Dad can be a fucking tool.

The ship landed on the “tarmac” with barely a shudder. My M16 hugged reassuringly into my shoulder. I couldn’t keep my body from shaking. I was just going to go with it. My hand hovered over the controls by the ramp that would let me out. Pop out fast and hard, shoot anything that moves, don’t stay in any one place for too long. I didn’t know what was going to greet me on the other side. I didn’t care. Deep inhale, slow exhale. Time to kick ass and take names…or not, but I was about to find out.

My hand slammed against the button by the ramp and for the first time I beheld the light of an alien vessel. My heart was racing.

“TIME TO KICK SOME ASS!”

And I was running down the ramp. Everything felt crystal clear for me, simple straightforward. My body felt clean, purposeful. I was ready and prepared for anything, even failure. Those green bastards had no idea what they were in for.

And apparently neither did I.

The hangar was empty.

Several hundred square yards, maybe even a square mile, rows upon rows of ships identical to ours lined up neatly and there wasn’t a fucking soul in sight.

Seriously?

I exchanged a disbelieving glance with Julie. She shrugged back at me. I was expecting a fight, a struggle, maybe an exchange of harsh words, something. I think I even wanted it, an outlet for a mass of bottled frustration. Hades I would have settled for just something making sense to me. There’s ships, there should be someone working on them, someone I could shoot, someone I could start a run and gun strategy with. Someone… anyone?

But there was no one, just a giant space, almost completely silent. White light shined from massive globes high overhead, markings and alien type writings with arrows on the deck at my feet. I spied a pair of massive doors at the far end of the hangar. With a heavy sigh which did nothing to hide an unjustified disappointment I headed towards it, Julie following behind me.

If I was heading into a trap I might as well get it over with.

“Greetings subjects, are you two from Duran Igris Cappo Klaxxon?”

The tone was almost sickeningly friendly. Two Kalarians stood behind a half-circular desk, typing away at consoles, toothy smiles on their faces to match the tone. We’d passed through the doors to find them standing on the other side. I’d wanted to pop them, but better judgment gave me a pause. There had to be thousands, if not millions of aliens on this ship. I needed to get Alicia’s father first. And if it was becoming an actual possibility that I was going to be able to do this I might as well take advantage of their stupidity for as long as I could.

“Yeah, that’d be us,” I chirped in a forced sugary sweet tone.

They paused for a second slightly confused, “Where are your tenders?”

I shrugged, “There was three of us before. The lucky woman had the benefit of staying behind to please our masters.”

This response seemed to satisfy them. They continued to punch away at the consoles for several moments.

“Destination?” one of them said looking up from the screen.

“Ah, reprocessing center” I replied.

He shook his head around (I guess that counted for a nod.) They handed us what looked to be a pair of buttons, a green glowing light fixed to the front of them. “Follow the hall on the left. The tram at the end of the hall will take you where you need to go. Thank you for serving the Kalarian Empire.”

Just before I continue here I want to reiterate that me and Julie were both carrying assault rifles, were done up head to toe in military dress and had a random assortment of explosives latched to our bodies. The Kalarians not only ignored this little bit, but actually spent a few seconds working around the material to find a place to fix the buttons to our chest.

“Thank you.”

“Retard species clothing is so nonsense,” one of them said, apparently not bothering to care that I could hear it.

I ignored it and made an about face with Julie, trying to count my blessings. I could see the twin glass doors and yellow lit cabin of what had to be the tram sitting about 400 feet down a small brown hallway. Me and Julie headed in that direction.

I could hear the two Kalarians loudly gossiping as we walked away from them.

“How long you think C’’’aml’’’tu and L’’’ug’’’rl will be?”

Straining my ears to listen. How much time did I have?

“I do not know. I think it is reliant on how attractive the retard specimen is.”

“Go observe them in a few minutes comprehend? They do have duties.”

“Comprehend.”

The cabin doors closed behind us and we were zipping away towards our destination, a sickening/excited feeling passing into my gut. I was hoping the reprocessing center wasn’t as much of a clusterfuck as I expected it to be. I was hoping Graham was still Graham, even 36 hours + later. Whether we got found out before or not I knew there was going to be a fight there. Well at least I was going to get the chance to shoot some shit.

I wish I could tell you that I was keeping my cool as all of this shit was going down. But I was nervous as fuck as the tram car pulled out from the station. My body was shaking slightly. I even had a cold sweat bleeding across my brow. It’s one thing to react to circumstances pressed on you and completely another thing to be foraging ahead into uncertain territories. I had already gotten way further than I’d expected to in the first place. I found myself glancing down at the button on my chest, glowing green, wondering its purpose, wondering what kind of technology was contained within its small package. I wanted to take it off, but I didn’t dare, not yet anyway.

It wasn’t a straight shot to the front door of the reprocessing center. The tram made stops. I had to stand politely aside on several occasions to let Kalarians on, watch as they stared at me for a moment, look down at my button and then ignore me. That didn’t mean they didn’t talk amongst themselves of course. And that didn’t mean I didn’t listen.

“So how much longer do you think we have here?” One of them asked another.

“The last of the pertinent genetic profiles should be done in the next fourteen planetary rotations. Another four or five for prepping and onloading and then we should be ready to head back to the fleet” it responded.

“Torkhas will be surprised.”

“I agree.”

Another group:

“The females here are nice.”

“You’ve spent too much time away from home base K’’ah’’cker.”

“They’re still nice.”

“If you say so.”

Not a whole lot else that was stated bore any kind of interest; complaints about the food, lingo about machinery that stood completely beyond me, basic ho hum conversation bullshit. As the minutes passed I was working to keep my face blank, trying to keep my eyes from darting about the space. I didn’t want to look suspicious. Julie was kind enough to let me furtively finger her pussy. She even had enough self control to keep her panting to a minimum as I made her wet. It was just the amount of distraction that I needed to keep my cool.

It must have been almost twenty minutes when the speaker finally chirped Next stop subject reprocessing center. I let out a slow exhale. I let myself dream of at least getting to Alicia’s father. I actually started thinking about what I might do to get back to the hangar. I allowed myself just a little bit more than hope of success. We were going to make it.

Which is of course when the shit made a turn for the worse.

Those buttons on our chest? They turned red. There was one Kalarian with us in the compartment when that happened. It was kind of thrilling to watch how his face turned from completely indifferent to gaping in fear.

“Crupak.”

I guess that was their equivalent of cursing. I held the assault rifle at his face, and he just stared at me, his whole body shaking all of sudden. He knew what I had and he knew what I could do with it. The door behind me opened with a chiming beep.

“Cover him Julie. I’m turning towards the door.”

“Yes Rick.”

Julie pointed her gun at the alien on the tram. I flipped to the door, stepping out. The scene that greeted me was much like the one that I’d left. Two Kalarians stood behind a half circle desk next to a massive door. Unlike what I left behind those aliens standing there had less than friendly faces for me.

That was when the double doors the desk stood next to opened up and enforcers started to pour out. A bright smile spread across my face as I raised the M16 to my shoulder and aimed. This I could handle. This was simple.

Time to Rock n’ Roll.

Pull frag, roll towards crowd, charge towards desk for cover. The two behind the desk scatter as I approach. I let them go. They’re not my problem. The guys with the laser rifles are. The frag explodes. Julie starts screaming like a scared little girl. A quick glance tells me it’s just shock at the noise. I pop up from behind the desk to take a peak.

Of an original group of eight six are down, two are still up but dazed. Some quick rifle work and that last of them fall flat dead. I switch out mags.

Shit that was fast. That was easy. This was almost even fun. But there was no time to revel in my own awesomeness. I had shit to do. I was sure there’d be more of them coming. Graham, I had to find Graham.

I turned to Julie, laying at my feet, completely undisguised fear played in her face. My hand reached down towards her. “Come on girl, let’s go.” She took it and we headed into the cavernous space that marked the reprocessing center. It was time to see what I could do. Time to see how much damage I could make.

I crossed the threshold, Julie following in my footsteps. The scene that greeted me borrowed a page from just about any sci-fi alien abduction story that you might have read. There were people, hundreds of people laid out on center prop tables, eyes closed, not moving, the slow rise and fall of their chests offering the only evidence that they lived. They covered every spectrum of people; male, female, dark skin, light, old, young, beautiful bare breasts, not so beautiful bare breasts. Contacts and wires flowed from their heads to angled machines in the wall or down into the ground. Nearby monitors offered data in a string of those same incomprehensible characters I saw scrawled on the floor of the hangar. The room itself was large, multi-tiered with balconies lining the wall. I counted five doors leading out to them, with another two on the ground level, leading into the room I was standing in.

Opportunity for attack from multiple directions and little solid cover on the ground; if ever there was a clusterfuck of a place to get trapped in this would be it. I needed to find Alicia’s father and quick or else I might find myself on one of these tables, or maybe dead (at this point a preferable outcome.)

I ripped the button from my chest and threw it to the ground. My head turned up towards the ceiling as a regular loud bleat filled the space around me. Almost thirty minutes in and alarms were finally going off. Time to stop standing around, start looking and then get the fuck out of there.

Me and Julie each took a line, racing down it, checking faces. I divided my attention between that and the balcony above, figuring that would be the mostly likely place to hit us from.

And I wasn’t wrong. Four pop out from the door on the front left. Kneel down, raise rifle, aim and fire. The first one drops. A second pushes back against the wall, holding at his arm, laser gun falling down at his feet. The other two stop and stare at their fallen, turning to gape at me, shock and fear in their faces and another emotion…confusion? A flurry of misfire at them and they scatter back into the door that they came in. Odin they are pussies. I can feel my heart racing, pure exhilaration. I switch out mags.

I was later to learn that the Kalarians have guard shields for their laser rifles, but nothing for something as primitive as metal slugs flying through the air. Score one for distrust of new technology.

“I found him!” I turn, Julie is standing over a table a little ways up the line.

I check my m16 and run towards her. My eyes stare at the man sprawled out before her. Thick beard, short hair peppered with gray, middling build wearing a flannel shirt, round face looking serene in sleep. Yep that was Graham.

I can hear the sound of movement behind me. I turn to see eight more of those bastards pouring in from the door we came in. I whip a frag at them, fuck the other people in the room. Cue explosion and death. Cue Julie screaming “HOLY FUCK.” I ignore it. Another spray of rifle fire and those that are still standing are going back through the door they came in. I don’t worry about those that are still on the ground.

“What are we going to do?” she asks, voice at the edge of panic.

I turn to the machine that he’s connected to, the console screen and buttons sitting beneath them. I know how to work this. How the fuck do I know how to work this? Doesn’t matter at the moment.

“RICK!” Yeah she’s panicking now.

“Cover the balcony Julie. I need a few seconds.”

“But—“

“You don’t have to hit anything, just don’t hit me.”

She nods her head and I get to work. Button cascade: counter programming algorithm. This takes a moment.

I hear the cacophony of Julie’s rifle. I don’t need to look to know she’s missing horribly. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not getting fired on which tells me that at least it’s giving those Kalarian bastards something to think about.

Almost there, step two: disconnect neural link. Step three: shut down machine.

Graham’s eyes shoot open wide, and he takes in a gasp of air. Shock at being woken up slowly gives way to recognition as he stares up at me and then confusion, “Rick? What the hell are you doing here?”

I can’t help but offer a shit grin back, “Would you believe I got a rescue mission going?”

He smiles back, “Alicia is right about you. I can see why she likes you so much.”

Say what? Cue annoying warm feeling rising in my chest.

Rifle fire again. A beam of light dashes across the corner of my eye. No time for lovey dovey shit.

“Can you walk?” I ask, turning up to the balcony and firing off a salvo of bullets at a Kalarian dashing across the walkway. He falls flat on the ground. God these aliens suck at fighting. I know why they need us as soldiers now.

Graham is up, a little uneasy on his legs, but it looks to be manageable. “Which way?” he asks.

The door in the back and pray it’s not a dead end. I take the lead. Julie’s behind me and Graham covering the rear. Run and gun strategy. See how far I can make it.

Somewhere around twenty of their enforcer come in from the door in the back, strangely gives me a sense of relief (not a dead end.) I pause and aim.

Fire.

I’m falling to the ground. I see blood, my blood. I don’t feel the pain yet, but I know I’ve been shot. I’ve been shot, not blasted. IE it has to be a bullet, not a laser rifle and only one other person has one as far as I know.

Fuck up chance #4: You’re supposed ally is in fact a double agent and wounds you at the most inopportune moment.

These thoughts all come to me in a flash, almost before I hit the ground.

And so does Julie.

“Oh my GOD. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Julie.

Instant clarity, in her panic Julie pulled the trigger before she actually sighted it to her shoulder, thereby hitting me in the leg instead. Stupid fucking woman. Stupid fucking me for giving her a gun.

She’s staring down at me hands shaking, apologies falling like rain from her mouth seconds before a beam of light hits her and she falls back on the ground next to me. Dead or stunned I don’t know.

I see Graham pick up her M16, but he’s shot down before he can do anything with it.

And suddenly I know the greatest feeling of despair I’ve ever known in my life. Everything that I did, everything I went through and it was for nothing. No…NO fuck that shit. I’m on the ground, but I’m not dead yet. Hell these fuckers aren’t even firing at me. They think I’m out. They’re in for a surprise. I reach for a grenade on my chest, realize it’s a flashbang, realize I used my last frag tossing it at those guys coming in from the door I came in, realize Julie has the rest in her seabag on the ground behind her where she dropped it after shooting me by accident. There’s no way I’m going to be able to get to it.

Fuck it. I grab the flashbangs and throw them both ways, covering my eyes and ears.

The explosion still deafens me. It still rattles me like it’s supposed to. I reach for my gun, knowing that I won’t be able to fire for shit. It doesn’t matter now. Nothing matters now. I’ll be dead soon or worse. I’m one man celebrating in the ashes of his civilization.

“My name is Ricardo Castillo bastards!” I fire off a volley of rounds at the group by the rear door, feeling the satisfaction of seeing one drop down onto the ground before me. Crippled and I’m still a God of death. I switch out mags, not knowing how much time I have left, but knowing I’m going to make it as hard for them as I possibly can.

I could keep going but the story doesn’t get any better from there. The details of returning fire and whatever else are mintuae and you know how I feel about that. Suffice to say a few minutes later (give or take a few minutes) they got me. I mean there were like hundreds of them, even if they were pussies.

Incidently all hail the Glorious Kalarian Empire.