The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Metal Harvest 2.0

Chapter 1: Full Metal Cola

The Brothel was 20 miles long and a mile in diameter at the narrowest point of its spindle shaped hull. When it had first entered the solar system its hull had been a blaze of spectral lights, holo-projections with Higgs-Bozon telegrams spamming the ether to attract customers.

The advertising effort had been very disappointing, not a single customer had responded.

After the first hopeful thousand years, The Brothel was forced to conclude that even if The Customers were limited to lightspeed communication, they’d got the message and just weren’t interested in its exotic services.

Had The Brothel been a creature it would have felt increasing gloom during the second thousand years. Power savings had had to be made; the once brightly lit hull was now utterly black, absorbing the meagre solar energy. Worse, it had been forced to place its organic-based entertainment units in suspended animation, a process that resulted in an annoyingly high spoilage rate in the fragile units.

Eight thousand years later, The Brothel finally received the Higgs-Bozon telegram it was waiting for. A Customer existed at a range of 4.1 lightyears, with specific and profitable requirements.

An inventory of its capabilities revealed that almost 53.8% of its pleasure units had ceased to function. A further 121 million female-pattern pleasure units would need to be acquired, programmed and shaped to the Customers specification.

Fortunately a large population of non-customers had spawned on the third planet of the planetary system. Removing 98.3% of their population of breeding age females would of course be a heavy burden, but once the remnant 2.7% had been programmed for increased libido and fertility the population should rapidly stabilize...within a brief 500 years.

Ten years later The Brothel achieved orbit around the 3rd planet, not wasting any time it began deploying the Trawler Spheres that would quickly and efficiently harvest the required units.

Once the Trawler Spheres had positioned themselves to provide global coverage they began jettisoning their payload of recruitment devices, 320,000 per Trawler, leaving in a cloud of glittering chrome fragments, the expended ship looking like a chrome plated apple-core as it drifted awaiting the signal to deploy its retrieval gates.

The cloud of devices, each consisting of six cylindrical pods 5″ long by 2″ in diameter held together in a flexible rectangular matrix, began to drift toward the planet, the heat of atmospheric entry activating the camouflage pigment impregnated onto their exterior surfaces.

By the time the devices impacted the words ‘Coca Cola’ were clearly visible on the side of each of its cylindrical pods. In 2.8% of cases the word was ‘Pepsi’

* * *

Day One: Sidemore House

Henrietta Warrington-Smith glanced up from The Times; there was some sort of commotion outside. Squinting at the limit of her aging eyes she spotted a six-pack of coke half buried in the croquette lawn. It was bad enough that the ancestral home was open to the public; but kids chucking their litter into the private half of the estate, was beyond the pale.

Slowly Henrietta used her walking stick to ease herself up from the chair and into the electric wheelchair parked next to it. That six-pack was going to land on Sheldon’s desk and then she’d have the pleasure of making the jumped up National Trust employee down a peg or two!

As the wheelchair approached the six-pack, Henrietta could tell that it there was something distinctly odd about it. The ground around the cans was burned as if someone had taken a flamethrower to it.

Suspiciously, she unlimbered her walking stick and prodded it.

A glowing laser eye popped up from one of the cans and shone brightly dazzling her. Without further warning the six-pack launched itself at her unfolding like some alien-facehugger, three thick robotic fingers gripped her head in a freezing cold embrace, other metallic fingers forcing their way below her collar wrapping their way around her like the constricting coils of an Anaconda.

She inhaled ready to scream but never got the opportunity. A fiery burst of pleasure raged in the ear that the robotic thing had covered. Disoriented and semi-conscious, the world drifted in and out of focus as she walked stiffly back into the house.

< Priority One: Find secure storage location during retrieval phase > Henrietta walked to the cleaner’s cupboard, Extracted enough mops and other contents to make room for herself and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

< Damage Control Analysis: Extensive maintenance required: Beacon Active. Shutting down pending retrieval>

Henrietta slept.

* * *

Day Two

Stephanie Warrington-Smith peeped out of her hiding place, in the mansion’s medieval Pantry.

It was all quiet; the Coke-Heads were nowhere to be seen. Quickly she dashed across the kitchens and grabbed cook’s radio and darted back to the safety of the pantry.

“Did you get it?” Hissed Raphaella.

Raphaella and Felix were two visitors who’d been touring the Stately Home with their families when the Coke-Head invasion had started. Stephanie had a distinctive dislike for both of them, one foreign, the other common, the only good point about them was that both 18 year olds were still human and willing to follow her lead as a member of the household.

She set the radio down on the table and switched it on. Immediately the room was flooded with electronic code noise. Quickly she reduced the volume to minimal and set the radio to channel search.

It was soon evident that all the frequencies were filled with the chirping code-noise.

“Toldja! Fucking Coke-heads are everywhere!” said the red head

“I am regretfully agreeing with Felix. The fucking Coke-heads are indeed everywhere!” replied Raphaella

“So what? You suggesting we surrender? People sacrificed themselves to make sure we weren’t found!”

The other two had the good sense to look embarrassed.

It had all started with six-packs of coke raining down over the park and gardens, each one forming a tiny crater. Some hit buildings shattering on impact, some hit people killing them instantly. The rest of the invasion had taken ten to fifteen minutes tops.

The impacts had caused chaos as bewildered people sought aid for the injured; others went to investigate the undamaged coke cans, mystified at their appearance.

Twenty seconds after landing the Cokes went live. Unfolded their manipulators, the disguised droids had begun jumping at any and every person within range, wrapping themselves around the torso and clamping themselves to the side of their victim’s head.

The zombification was almost instant, the victim’s eyes would close and a single glowing robotic eye would open on the coke’s ‘head’ as it rested over the victim’s ear.

Some people had tried to help their friends and family only to be grabbed and held immobile ready for their own enslavement.

Raphaella’s mother had been the one to figure it out, ordering people to team up and prevent the Coke-bots from getting close enough to leap.

It had worked for a while, retreating toward the main house, using its wall to protect their backs. They hadn’t seen the single Pepsi can lying in the gutter and not associated it with the lethal six-pack shaped droids.

The Pepsi had launched itself upward like a missile, jets of flame roaring from four venturi at its base. Changing course in mid flight it had fastened itself to a geeky looking teen of about Stephanie’s own age. The Pepsi had then driven a tail-like stinger into the boy’s neck, injecting a green fluid that could be seen flowing through a transparent duct. Instead of remaining attached the discharged droid had dropped away its task complete.

Almost instantly the boy had begun to scream tearing at clothes that were already become painfully tight, his muscles growing vastly large. A nine-inch cock had pushed its head into view squeezed to a deep red by the constriction of the boy’s belt and his bulging six-pack.

The tightly clustered group had scattered in surprise and terror, many of them had been instantly enslaved by Coke-bots taking advantage of the confusion to leap upon them.

They’d been fools to think that the invaders wouldn’t have more than one weapon. The transformed boy was that weapon. Ripping loose from the last vestige of its clothes the Bull-Pepsi roared, primal, naked, an utterly virile alpha male.

A stench like a hundred sweaty jock straps had wafted across them. Discussing it later they’d figured the smell was like pheromones.

Seconds after smelling the stench the women closest had seemed to forget all about their terror. Sniffing with distaste, then inhaling deeply and finally fumbling clumsily with their clothes.

When she’d heard the first ripping noise of a blouse giving way she’d understood. She’d taken one last look at the way the girls were looking hungrily at the Bull-Pepsi’s cock and grabbed the nearest two people, shoving them through the ornate doorway; only just slamming the heavy wooden door in time, a Coke-bot denied its prey thudded against the other side.

They’d stood there panting for a few brief seconds listening to the Bull-Pepsi’s sexual grunting and the gasps and giggles from its lust crazed herd.

Having grown up in the old house she’d had the advantage of local knowledge, she’d ushered the other two survivors into a ‘secret’ passage that had its other exit in an old pantry, now used as storage for the cafeteria.

“If we are not surrendering, what are we to be doing?” asked Raphaella snapping Stephanie back to the present.

“Catch!” said Felix throwing a can at them.

Stephanie dodged as the Pepsi clattered against the stone wall. Instinctively she raised her foot and stamped down on the can soaking her shoe and sock in high-pressure cola from the genuine beverage.

“Ha! Ha! Your faces man!”

“Idiot!”

Before Stephanie could move to administer the beating the little shit deserved, a rumbling roar began, increasing in volume until the very walls were shaking.

Stephanie moved back to the pantry door, checking again for Coke-Heads or Coke-bots, finding none she dashed to the outer wall where a thin slit window up near roof level allowed some amount of light into the room. Like all old houses, the kitchens were in the basement, cooler for storage and out of sight of visitors. The result of this historic design quirk was a window that could have served as a machinegun slit and gave a view of the gardens at ground level.

Stephanie watched silently as Coke-Heads began emerging from the buildings and forming ranks in front of the alien craft.

Each Coke-Head undressed then stood at parade rest. The groups of Coke-Heads appeared to have sorted themselves by age and gender.

Once the flow of enslaved visitors stopped and it seemed that no more would be emerging from their hiding places, the youngest group began boarding, marching single file with military-like precision.

Stephanie cursed silently, seeing her own Grandfather stood rigidly at the far end of the parade.

Before she could turn away and tell the others what she’d seen, a movement in the trees caught her eye. The young Bull-Pepsi was still at it, mounting a naked girl who had gone down on all fours so that he could mount her.

About half way between the house and the orgy in the trees the remains of a coke-bot, shattered by its impact with the fountain of Apollo twitched uselessly.

A plan began to form, radical and daring, but still a chance to deal a blow to the enemy...all they needed was were some dead Coke-bots that were undamaged enough mimic the real things.

Quickly she slipped back to the pantry and explained what was going on and her plan.

“Fucking mental! I’d rather drink Pepsi.” Muttered Felix chugging a can of Lilt

“Whilst I would not be willingly drinking the Pepsi, I think Felix is correct. Your plan is fucking suicidal. I will do what I can to help but I will not be accompanying you.” replied Raphaella thoughtfully

Felix glanced between the two shrugged “Ok, Ok, I’ll help too. You stand a better chance of getting in undetected if you go in alone anyway”

* * *

Stephanie silently joined the back of the parade of Coke-headed 18 year olds, stripping down and standing at parade rest. They’d successfully grabbed a broken Coke-bot, taken it back to the pantry and given its workings a good bashing just to make sure it was dead. Now the thing was draped loosely in position, held attached with some cellotape Raphaella had found.

She waited nervously; the embarcation of the slightly younger batch to her right seemed to be taking forever.

Behind her there was shouting, and the shattering of glass. She dared not look back, but feared for her friends. A few seconds later her concerns were confirmed, a Bull-Pepsi ran into view heading for the trees and the devolved herd rutting there; The mane of red hair clearly marked him, Felix had gotten his wish.

Out of the corner of her eye she noted that a newly Coke-headed Raphaella had moved into line next to her and begun to undress. Stephanie was relieved to see that there was no sign of recognition. The Coke-bot obviously didn’t have the ability to read Raphaella’s mind.

A moment later the Coke-Head in front of her was in motion and it was time to board the alien ship. Trying not to stand out in the line of marching slaves she matched her pace with it and prayed silently that the alien controller was as unobservant as its slaves.

The ship’s interior was like nothing she could have expected. She’d imagined brutal white plastic like on Star Wars, in fact the corridor reminded her of a sleazy red light district.

The walls were lined with shop-fronts each one containing what appeared to be a regular king-sized bed decorated in various styles. The first display rooms were darkened each contained four Coke-Heads each stood in her own alcove. Further down the corridor one of the display rooms was fully lit with holographic signage attracting attention to it.

The four immobile occupants appeared to be humanoid but not quite human. Their body shape made them look like idealized Greek godessess, muscles defined in polished chrome with small areas of blue skin visible at the joints. Judging by the two pairs of B cup-sized breasts, these aliens were also females.

Stephanie forced herself not to turn and stare. Up ahead was another lit room, she determined to get a better look as she passed it.

The aliens in the second room were of several species, like the first set they were female and clad in chrome. One was bright red with horns, one grayish green and slightly scaly, the last was another blue skin. Each one had a smaller sleeker version of a Coke-bot bonded to the side of its head.

Just like on the Coke-bots two thin tentacular tubes ran down over the highly polished breast plating ending in circular devices roughly over the position that a nipple might inhabit. Having seen similar armatures, Stephanie guessed that below the chrome, four hypodermic needles were puncturing the alien’s real nipples.

The 2nd alien room was quickly out of sight and the rooms that followed reverted to the darkened type filled with newly recruited slaves.

Ahead of her the corridor widened into a vast Mall-like concourse; Stephanie felt disoriented, there was no way that the shuttle she’d entered could contain all this. Her gasp of awe should have given her away, but her fellow humans seemed oblivious. A tiny chink of hope entered her universe, if they really were like the Borg on Star Trek they ought to ignore her, like, totally.

Before she could think more on the possibility she felt the brush of metal against her back, reflexively she glanced around. The nudge had been Raphaella’s erect nipples, held engorged and erect by the Coke-bot’s ring shaped clamps. The Italian Asian had not been aware that she’d stopped and had continued walking.

Hurriedly Stephanie turned and caught up with the two Coke-Heads ahead of her. The lack of reaction to her hesitation seemed proof that they really did react exactly like traditional Borg. Feeling more secure she glanced around, the inhabitants of Sidemore Country Park were fanning out in groups of four each heading to sets of quarters similar to the ones in the corridor.

Stephanie’s mind seethed with doubt, make a break now in front of several hundred drones? Or wait in one of those alcoves until things quieted down?

At the far side of the chamber three silver droids appeared, inspecting a row of senior citizens. That clinched it; it was almost certain that the silver types would be more aware and would raise the alarm if she ran now.

Reluctantly she walked into the bedroom past the bed and into one of the decoratively sculpted alcoves.

She stood impatiently waiting for the flow of new drones to subside. It didn’t; it seemed that a vastly greater number of people than could have been on the estate were walking blankly past.

“Steph-an-ie”

Raphaella’s voice nearly given her a heart attack

“Raphaella! Are you all right?” she whispered

“Hard..to think...feels so good.”

“Fight it!”

“No! If I...Res-ist...a repair unit... will be sent. This Unit does not require repair...obedience training will proceed according to schedule.”

Stephanie sighed, it was hopeless, and Raphaella’s brief attempt at free will had been squished before she’d finished a single sentence.

Steam hissed, venting in Raphaella’s alcove on the opposite side of the bed. An armature unfolded from the alcove’s hemispherical roof. Wrapped in a variety of wires and ended in a two-inch wide socket, it seemed almost cobra-like as it darted forward, plugging itself into Raphaella’s Coke-bot with a solid clunking noise.

Stephanie had about three seconds to realize that the exact same thing was happening in her alcove before the connecting ring slotted itself into the dead Coke-bot draped over her head.

Cold slab-like fingers closed, gripping her head tightly, the bot’s tentacles repositioning themselves so that their nipple rings could send its hypodermics lancing into her nipples. The Coke-bot’s robotic tail, which had rested down her back like a ponytail lashed around blindly, finally wedging itself between her ass cheeks and sliding between her legs. For an instant it looked like she’d grown a silver cock, then the metallic probe looked back on itself and thrust into her vagina, tiny needles forming a ring of pleasure around her clit.

Words formed in her mind

< Unit 442569-4 Co-processor Malfunction>

< Initiating Backup Co-processor>

< Backup Co-processor Malfunction>

< Allocating Core CPU capacity. Unit 442569-4 prioritized>

A wave of dizziness came over her, desperately she tried to unplug the thing, but it was already too late, her limbs were no longer hers to control.

< Scanning Unit 442569-4 mind-state. Operating System Download status 0.000% complete. Re-initiating Standard Lifeform Capture Protocols>

< Unit 442569-4....You will enjoy this process>

Stephanie inhaled ready to scream, then the pleasure hit her and her breath exhaled in a long ecstatic sigh as a tingling erotic glow expanded from her nipples and clit enveloping her in an all encompassing euphoric embrace.

There was a new thought-emotion flooding her mind, she hadn’t realized that she’d been searching for her home and now she’d found it. She would be safe here, no random unplanned for events would ever bother her again.

With the feeling of security and relaxation came a feeling of cozy tiredness that always came just before true sleep began.

0.005 minutes later Stephanie was asleep, her body locked into a comfortable parade rest stance.