The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Downtown in an area too poor to attract chain stores, Zeedra Jackson was closing up shop at a locally owned Kwik-e-Mart ripoff. She was five months pregnant and aching from a full shift without a stool to sit on. Even still, her thoughts weren’t on muscle aches. Her thoughts kept running back to Darrel.

“Da-REL.” he always said, cause it was like something exotic. ‘Damnit boy, you just plain ole Darrel Willis... Talkin’ ‘bout DarEHL like you was somebody.’ Her shoulders slumped as she turned the lock on the shop. It’d be easier to hate him if she didn’t want him around so god damn much. Baby mama drama looks simple, but you get in it and it ain’t so goddamn easy. She wasn’t even sure if she felt like sobbin’ or just grittin’ her teeth or cursin’ or smackin’ somebody upside the head.

That’s when she felt the jolting jostle and grab.

That’s when some piece of crap punk decided to steal her purse.

About a second and a half later, she was flinging curse words helplessly into the cold night air. His only response was the echoing of fast footfalls fading.

The dashing young man who took the purse rounded the corner and took a quick gander in the purse. Tossing out a couple random things with a grin, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Looking up he saw a figure ambling with a labored gait and one tired arm supporting her lower back. Looked like... another pregnant woman?

But all in black.

Carrying a sword.

He stared at her dumbfounded for a second, until the figured looked up at him, and cocked her head.

“What the fuck are you lookin’ at?” he sneered.

His answer was a sword stuck into the wall right by his head and a blank masked oval staring at him only inches away. She waved hello.

Off to the races, he ducked out hurdling the corner of a parked car and across the dead street. He looked back to see the sword wielding pregger chick nowhere near. He was about to sigh relief when he looked ahead and saw her in front of him leaning on a parking meter for support. He dashed again, but saw her in lotus position on another parked car in all her pregnant glory, with the sword balanced on her head. He kept on dashing, only to find her in front of him again, sometimes with a sword, sometimes, with nunchakus whapping, sometimes sipping tea from the top of here expanding baby belly. Until finally—completely out of breath he found himself face to face with Zeedra Jackson.

“Here, god damn... here’s the damn thing... holy jesus girl what...” He dropped the purse before her, sucking wind and doubled over.

Zeedra stared at him in shock for a moment before she picked up the purse and punctuated her tirade with wild swings over the head, “Boy what the FUCK do you thinkin? Aww hell naw! Take mah purse?! I’ll whoop your sorry ass all up an down this street, don’ think I don’ know you, I’m gonna tell all your little boys ‘bout how you got beat down by me, I’m tellin yo mama to, so she can whoop you too, don’t think I don’ know yo mama neithah...”

Topping off the insane scene was a ninja with a faux baby bump jiggling as she giggled watching the justified beat down.

Maybe it didn’t make any headlines like some of her other moments over the 4 next months of adventuring, but she remembered that day fondly. It was also the same day she found her new roommate Keri.

It was partly because of Papa Wen’s naggingly insistent prodding that Alexis had even started looking for a roommate. He probably was concerned with Alexis being on her own in her own apartment in the city at the age of 18 alone. Not so much a concern about her ability to pay—but more so that it would be the first time she’d be out of the dorm-like setting of private school and college. After some more of her intentional experimental “failures”, she’d earned the nickname “Boom-boom” and also gained Papa Wen’s increased concern for her emotional well-being. To stave off constant visits, she acquiesced and began the search.

Alexis sat in her room smiling to herself about a baby bump and a beaten punk, while her roommate was out in the kitchen clattering up a storm.

Out in the kitchen, Keri poured a frozen packet of instant stir-fry into a pan and balanced on one foot to kick the fridge door behind her shut, all with her head at an impossible angle keeping her cell phone tucked between her shoulder and ear.

“New club? Where at?”

...

“Totally we should go, like yesterday, hold on let me get my Bluetooth,” A manicured set of fingers dove into her Gucci bag and rifled through grabbing a gaudy pink clip while a few other essentials clattered on the counter.

...

“Got it okay go.”

...

“You know we should totally get my roomie to come out with us.”

...

“She’s kinda quiet. But really sweet, she’s like my hero and the perfect roommate.”

...

“No, she’s a total babe—like the girl in the movie with the glasses before the makeover, that’s not an issue. Wait, how old do you gotta be?”

...

“Ha, awesome, she can desi-drive for us then, hold up.”

Leaving the shrimp stirfry to fend for itself, Keri’s bare feet padded over to her roomie’s door while twisting one of her 4 multicolored pigtails. The UPenn emblazoned across her jiggling bottom and matching UPenn crop top advertised both her youth and assets. Whereas Alexis was slender and toned with a dancer’s body, Keri was more soft and curvaceous.

Keri peeked her head in, “Hey there’s a new club up on 5th and Wellington, we’re going wanna come with?”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay in tonight. Long day tomorrow at work.”

“You sure? I’m sure I could hook you up with some drinks...”

“Nah, me and Bard’ll be fine here,” she said, raising an open copy of Taming of the Shrew.

“Gah, well, if you change your mind, let me know!”

But Alexis wasn’t about to change her mind. She locked the door and headed to her closet. The Bard could wait, she had other plans tonight. She couldn’t very tell Keri that she was planning to don a super powered suit, jump over buildings, and stake out a warehouse in the industrial district with right across from Duckbuild Construction Equipment’s warehouse.

From atop the yellow on black construction company’s logo, Alexis looked down to the office of one Charles Kravniedev. According to the Suit, some packages had just been re-routed to Kravniedev’s receiving facility, which could be used for bomb making if some of the material was being siphoned off. Still, without knowing their final destination, she wasn’t sure if this group was planning something or—more likely—just a middle man for some other organization. Rather than go make a mess of things and end up with a bunch of not guilty’s since these guys would clearly be lawyered up big time, she planned to go for evidence. But that meant waiting for Charlie to get out of his office. And the occasional cramping in her legs reminded her that it was time for another stretch, and that guy really needed to get out of the office once in a damned while. It was strange.

‘Come on Chuckie, can’t chat with your buddies forever.’

She mused to herself idly as she watched the workers below:

‘To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark duck

watching post pubescent pissants who look like bog muck

awaiting the arrival of a tall tan truck

and a cheap Armani knock-off wearing guy called Chuck...

and a cheap Armani knock-off wearing guy called Chuck.’

She smiled. ‘It would be so poetic if a truck rolled up right... now.’ Nothing. ‘Now?’ Still just a few burly guys and a smoker or two milling about. She huffed a sigh and sat back. ‘Twiddle-dee-dee and twiddle-dee dums, I’ll just sit back and twiddle me thumbs.’

Twenty minutes of twiddling later, a truck did drive up, and Charles vacated his office presumably to oversee delivery. Apparently, the delivery was important enough for him oversee it personally, and now was the chance to find out why. Alexis disappeared back onto the roof of the Duckbuild facility and clawed her way down the side skittering at an amazing and quiet speed. Darting between shadows, she picked her way over the asphalt and up the siding, jimmying the window lock with a few tendrils and slipping into Charles’ well-lit office.

Alexis sat down at the computer, to find he’d logged out and it was password protected. Briefly she considered just taking the hard drive, but decided against it. She wanted a window into the operation on a continuing basis—not just a snapshot. Pausing for a moment, she smiled. ‘Alright, you need a keylogger.’

‘Suit, access keylogger alpha.’

Ready to upload keylogger alpha.

He paused, ‘Okay that’ll get me your password, now how do I get it on your system...’ She furrowed her brow, with a hand on her chin like Rodan’s Thinker. “Porn!” Alexis smiled and logged on with limited access as a guest.

‘Suit, list websites with pornography that have cases of identity theft pending.’ In a matter of moments, she had created a web account with 5 different porn sites, downloaded a host of highly dubious applications, and subscribed the guest account to a host of different sites. At least two of them appeared to have backdoor controls.

‘Suit, activate ranging, I need proximity alerts. Let me know if someone’s coming.’

Proximity alerts enabled.

Neural Net prompted input—Engage?

Alexis paused. Neural Net prompted input was her generic alert for actions the suit would suggest without prompting. She had been toying with AI algorithms, and this was the first time the Suit was suggesting something without her asking for it directly.

‘Engage.’

High amperage detected, no path to ground. Charge proximity 1 meter.

Her display flashed an image of the computer and some line running behind it. Alexis leaned forward and to her horror discovered a mass of wires and a cubic contraption. In a flash, she reached forward and extended the filaments around the 4 inch box and wires, encircling them. Completely encircled, she flexed the filament cage, cutting all the wires to it, and she gritted her teeth for a concussion blast, but none came. Instead, just a bright flash of light burst through the suit.

“Hey boss,” came a dull toned voice.

“What is—hey what was that?” came another.

Charles Kravniedev looked up from the truck’s manifest, dropping it and reaching for his gun, “What? What was what?”

The first bodyguard tentatively offered, “Uhm, just light—saw a flash up there.”

“Naum, Mikhial, you get your guns out, our ‘surprise’ visitor must be here now.”

Her body rigid and tense Alexis felt momentary relief at being alive. But instead of heaving a sigh of relief she barely let out a breath. Dread came over her as the suit remained tight around her chest. Blackness entombed her.

‘Suit Disengage’

Nothing but pitch tar blackness.

‘Suit Disengage!’

What had been supple and flowing filaments responding to her every command was now a shroud as unyielding as steel. The suit bit into her ribs as she tried to take in a breath. Tendrils of panic started worming into her mind as she fought back the urge to whimper or shake. She forced herself to take a small breath, but hardly any air came. Pressing her lips to the rigid woven helm, she tried to suck some air through the filament cage she found herself in, and barely pulled in a bit of air. She willed herself to sanity against the cold chill of panic.

‘Okay, the suit is not off, or else it would be cloth and—ouch.’ To her horror, she felt a patch of heat at her midback somewhere around thoracic vertebrae 4 and 5. ‘Oh god, the amp is stuck in a transmit.’ She sucked in her center and mashed her body forward trying to make some space between her already heated and squeezed torso and the new modem in the suit back. ‘This is good, this is good, I just need to not suffocate or burn before the power drains out. I probably shouldn’t crack jokes to myself.’

There stood a black statue, one arm lunged forward behind a computer, as the seconds ticked by. Fifteen seconds and panic was creeping much more strongly into her mind. With her body contorted and struggling not to be burned and air barely trickling in, Alexis was torn between finding religion, cursing the suit, or seeking a reasonable non-fantasy solution.

Oddlly enough, that solution was about to arrive in the form of a paperclip. A simple metal paperclip precariously balanced on the edge of the desk. As Naum and Mikhail bounded up the corrugated metal steps to the office area, their hefty frames bounding off the iron gave off just enough of a vibration to send the tiny paperclip over the edge. Falling end over end, the clip clipped the ankle of the suit and arced to the metal leg of the chair whose metal foot had worn down enough of the carpet to form a path to ground. With a pop, the black chair got a new grapefruit sized char mark... And the suit went limp.

Alexis fell forward onto her elbow and pulled off her hood, taking a deep and grateful breath. Her Suit’s sleeves fell loose from her shoulders, rolling down to her elbows, her shirt and pants unravelled letting the waistband reform and pool around her hips. She heaved a second breath, only to hear a doorknob click and two men storm in with guns drawn.

Mikhail was the first in, and training his gun forward he saw the cutest little brunette, half dressed sitting at the computer and looking back up at him with a slight glaze in her eyes catching her breath. He stopped, causing Naum to bump straight into him. After a moment of awkwardness he seemed to remember himself and aim his gun at her, “Bitch who the fuck are you?”

After an almost imperceptible pause the young woman chimed out, “Oh shit, oh gawd, you, uhm, I wasn’t doin’ nothin.” She was panicked obviously, they had caught her doing something. Doing what?

Naum squeezed out from behind Mikhail to see the screen, as she pulled her hand away from the mouse. After a moment, he chuckled and holstered his gun. “Ли, как маленькая девочка порно?”

Mikhail gave him an odd look, and Naum gestured to the screen as she slowly raised her hands, “Смотреть! Смотреть!”

Mikhail, grinned and put his gun away, “Daa, this little girl likes the porno, eh?”

“Oh God, this is humiliating.”

The two gorillas exchanged meaningful grins. Mikhail approached with a positively indecent leer. “So little porno girl, mebee we makes some porno, you and me, da?”

The girl rolled her eyes, then looked him square in the eye and said, “Not unless you’re the big boss man around here, I’m all paid up for one guy, not a threesome. That costs extra, studly. But maybe after the job’s done...” She trailed off with a coquettish smile.

“You’re the surprise girl, hehe, the boss thought you were something else.”

“Oh, I’m something else, sweety, but this outfit they gave me, I seem to be having some trouble with it, it just doesn’t want to stay on.”

“Heh, heh, let me help you,” Naum interjected from behind her, grabbing her by the shoulder and standing her up. She reached down and grabbed the pants to hold them up with her sleeved and gloved hand. He grabbed the hood out of her hands and put it over her head completely covering her view and jerked her head back.

Naum pulled her close breathing heavily in her ear, then yelled sharply to his buddy, “Mikhail, what was she really looking at?” He grinned at her frightened jolt as he blasted her eardrum.

Mikhail shrugged and clicked through a variety of intriguing porn sites. “She was looking at the girl wit boy, girl wit girl, more little girls, girl wit dog? Let me sit, da?”

Naum chuckled, “OK, you come wit me, I give you to boss for good time. You not so good meh-be we have wery good time,” he said, roughly grabbing her breast and pinching her nipple to add emphasis. “Mikhail?”

“Coming, I’m coming!”

‘Okay, mental note, big guy number 2 is the psychopath.’

Mikhail and Naum escorted her down the stairs, with Mikhail also holding up her pants and guiding her, keeping her from tripping down the stairs while hooded. Naum’s duties consisted of shoving her forward and spitting out the few words for women he know in English. “Move cunt. This way, bitch.” Such lovely gentlemen escorts she’d found.

Seeing the female figure hooded in black being escorted down, Charles hurried in, “Well, what do we have here?”

“Naum brings you present.”

Mikhail interrupted, “She was masturbating in your office, said she was paid for. For you.”

After a pause Charles chuckled, “Oh boys... Ivan, I bet it is Ivan on the phone today as the mystery man. The next time I see him I’m going to cut his balls off.”

Alexis was intrigued. Apparently someone had called to warn him of some kind of visitor. There’s no other reason to mention the call. Had she been set up? How would anyone have known? It would be highly unlikely that someone could predict her movements—but why else would there be an EMP, and how would they have known it would disable the Suit? She hadn’t thought of designing around that, though she’d have to consider how to effectively shield some control portions of the Suit—but now wasn’t the time to redesign, now was the time to realize that either someone knew her every move before she did or she’d been bested by ridiculous coincidence. What insane and stupid reason would make Charles chose an EMP as computer tampering protection? If it was a coincidence, that meant that someone else actually MUST BE coming here, which might put her in greater danger than she was already in. This Ivan he referred to might know about something else going on. He must have called Charles up, warning him about an unexpected visitor coming tonight while hiding his voice. All these thoughts flashed through her mind ticking, while Charles’ mind was occupied with something else.

A slimy smile crawled across his lips. He pulled off the hood, “Hello little girl, what’s your name?”

‘I’m a call girl, act 1 scene 2, go.’ She looked at him without missing a beat and gave a flirty smile, “What do you want it to be?”

Naum jerked her shirt, choking her, and spat, “Answer him whore!”

“Naum, stop, let her go. There, that’s better. You see, Naum, you are too hard, you must forgive him, he has no manners. Naum is an animal, really. A dog.” She seemed to respond to him, though her hands were drawn together clutched to her chest. This girl looked so vulnerable, a few strands of hair plastered to forehead, big doe eyes looking up to him for protection. She was perfect. Whore or no, she was... beautiful. “There there, now you are here with the boss, come with me, you can be my little Nadia, da?”

She looked up to him nodding. Her lower lip trembled slightly. Inside, Alexis was furiously considering how to get out of this without actually getting into anything, or anything getting into her. Indeed, she’d traded one suit for another. This boss seemed to like the power trip and was definitely responding to her deer in headlights routine. He probably wanted a virgin. ‘Well, that ship has already sailed.’

“Boss, she likes two girls porno!” Naum called out to him.

“Naum, shut up!” He spat back. “You can call me, Mister Kravniedev,” he explained leading her back up the stairs.

“Da, Mister Kravniedev, sir.”

“Ah, you’re good at this game, then,” he smiled to her and let her into the office, “So my pretty little Nadia, who sent you here?”

Her eyes darted about the room and spotted a small piano figurine on the desk, “My papa and mama sent me to you to study under the great master pianist Master Kravniedev.”

His eyes grinned wide, “Yes, yes, that’s good.”

“Please, please don’t tell them that you caught me looking at these naughty pictures.”

“Oh, but Nadia, you’ve been so naughty.”

“Master Kravniedev I know I’m not supposed to but, I can’t help myself. They make me feel so... warm...” She paused for effect, looking at him sheepishly as if begging for forgiveness, “... down there.”

Charles was beside himself, grinning from ear to ear and trying to play along with this new little game. “Oh Nadia,” he approached her comfortingly rubbing her shoulders, and meaningfully slipping the sleeves down her slim arms, over her elbows, and off her petite hands. “Have you been doing anything else you must tell me now?”

She nodded and bit her lip.

“Show me.”

She stepped back from him, trying to make some distance—the eagerness with which he was eating this up kind of creeped her out. “Well, I sit down and I look at the pictures... and I see them naked, and then they are touching...” She trailed off as her hands started roaming across her young, lithe body. She sat down on the coffee table, legs spread, looking very enticing. She edged forward slightly, leaning on one straight arm, letting the other hand wander up her chest and caressing her face. “I get too warm, and I... I start to think of you, Master Kravniedev.”

“Me? Oh Nadia, tell me what you think of me.”

‘You’re a pompous pedantic pedophile with a propensity toward procrastination... and sloth.’

“Your hands, they are so magic on the piano, I... I think about them touching me.”

“Touching you where?”

She showed him, teasingly, tantalizingly, while looking for a weapon of some kind. Like maybe a chainsaw or a pair of pruning shears. ‘Yeah, pruning shears would work.’ While beckoning him with her sensuous display, she was picturing different scenarios. Girl trips and accidently knees him in the balls. Girl pulls him onto her, and he trips and accidentally gets kneed in the balls. She kneels down and sneezes, accidentally head butting him in the balls. ‘Hmm... accidental ball smackage seems to be the best course of action.’

“Oh Nadia, you’re so naughty, but I must teach you. I must teach you so much,” he closed the gap and started caressing her. That is to say, he started mauling her with fat bear paws. Her body was so fit and slim. He rushed to tug at her shirt to feel the bare flesh. Her tummy felt so firm and supple and his hand kept searching north for the curve of her breast. She flashed an eager smiled at him, reaching up to pull him down to kiss her. While his hand fumbled under her shirt, her other hand was creeping up to his holster.

Without warning, her easy solution was quite rudely interrupted by the sound of two cracks and shattering glass. Charles shoved himself back upright, and ran to the window overlooking the main warehouse, knocking his beloved ‘Nadia’ back to the table.

Now it was Charles’ turn to feel creeping fear as he looked down to see some kind of SWAT team swarming his warehouse. The raid was fast and efficient. Most if not all of the workers were face down, being arrested. Charles looked at the back of his computer in horror. He smacked a small box a few times a cursed over and over. The whore was just trying to gather her silly outfit up, when they burst through the door.

They took everyone down pretty fast, and she offered no resistance. She did exercise her right to remain silent, while trying to figure out how the hell to get out of this mess... or at least explain something more plausible and less damaging than, “Hi, I moonlight as a hooker.”

‘Well, I’d probably keep the same nickname at work... Boom boom,’ she sighed.

She was lumped into the pattywagon and taken to custody. The ride was a little on the awkward side. Some of the guys were joking around like this was nothing to them. One was goading another other about what nickname he was going to give his bitch in the holding cell. Trixie seemed a good enough name, but another blurted that Floppycheeks would be better. Gallows humor rides to the end. Is it schadenfreude if you’re in for the ride too?

She was unceremoniously separated from the men at processing and, to her horror, they stripped her of the suit. A female officer was impassive and mechanical in her duties, ultimately taking the suit and giving her a jumpsuit. It was as if the woman didn’t think of Alexis as human.

She finally found herself in an unbelievable clichéd grey interrogation room. There she sat, twiddling her thumbs waiting for somebody to come in trying to be the next cast member of “Law and Order”.

Right on schedule a slightly balding shard eyed detective with a broad chest scarred knuckles walked in the room with a file in hand. His badge seemed to be federal, which means “Agent” not “Detective”. She noted the way he stood over her, but far back enough to where he wasn’t trying to physically intimidate her. They sent a man in—interesting. This wouldn’t be good cop bad cop... It was going to be smart cop. Wedding ring. He’s probably old enough to be her father. More pertinent, he’s old enough to have a daughter her age. This could work.

“Hello Nadia.”

She looked down.

“What the hell were you doing there?” he mused, mostly rhetorically.

“Not saying anything, huh? Okay, I get that. This is a fine little pickle though.”

He tapped the file as if to indicate some piece of information he had that she didn’t.

“So you don’t look Russian, and you’re dumb enough to be at a Russian mob run warehouse that tells me one of two things.”

She looked up at him with contained venom.

“Girlfriend, or whore?”

She let a little venom slip with a sneer.

“You tell me,” he went on unfazed, “’cause I’m just curious as to what it takes these days, in either case.”

Finally the young girl spoke up, “Which one gets me outta here?

He chuckled in response, “Wow, uhm. You really aren’t that bright, are you sweetie. Well, I could hold you here until we establish your identity, I’ve got your prints on file now, and if you’ve been picked up before it’s only a matter of time till I find out the last name you used, or you could just tell me your name and this can go a lot smoother.”

“Persephone. My name is Persephone Gambol.”

“Hey there we go you look a little more like a Persephone than a Nadia, I’ll tell you that. Now for my first question...” He gave her the patronizing look a parent might give their child encouraging the kid to eat the creamed brussels sprouts. “Come on you can do it.”

“Look I’m not a whore okay, I just went out one night, and I couldn’t go clubbing cause they took my fake ID, and I met some guys they were really sweet and things just got a little weird. Okay, yeah, they flashed some money, but I didn’t have sex and I didn’t take any money okay?”

“There we go, congratulations young lady, you win a prize. It’s the stupid prize. Look I’ll be honest, I don’t really give a damn about fake ID’s. My partner isn’t here is because he said you’re a waste of time.”

He leaned down from the other end of the table placing his hands on it for emphasis, “Look kid, you’re a moron.” He continued with a bit more levity, “But about the only consistent thing I’ve gotten from every other guy out there is that you’re a whore, except one knucklehead who said he knew you’re an undercover cop whore.”

He pulled out his keys and extended a hand to her handcuff bound hands. Tentatively, she raised them up to him. “It’s not my job to worry about girls like you, who... get caught up in this nastiness. Just trust me, go home tonight. If you can, call someone you know, someone you feel safe with. This road isn’t going to end well for you.” Her hands unbound, he offered her a fatherly smile, “Come on.”

He escorted her out. Apparently, she’d read him right, but was a little off on how this was going to go. He did want to seem smarter than her, only his reason was to deliver a lecture. Dutifully, she followed him, trying to think if Keri would be able to pick her up—or if she would be sober enough to get here at 4 AM. That would be an interesting phone call too.

“Let’s just get you to sign out your stuff here.”

The officer across the desk looked back at him and shook her head with a hint of sass and a hint of drawl, “Sorry Agent, no can do.”

“What? What do you mean I have orders from on high to release her.”

“Yeah she’s fine to go, but her clothes are impounded. Same as all the other evidence.”

“On whose authority?”

“DHS, they came in here about half an hour ago and marked the whole lot.”

“Bullshit, DHS doesn’t pull rank on FBI.”

“Don’t look at me, all I know is that put a 1 week hold on all that stuff pending a larger investigation. Tell that one if she wants her stuff back, she can come back here in a week. And what’s her name better bring some ID, too. Nadia whoever.”

“Alright alright, but her name’s Persephone Gamble, how do you spell that?”

Alexis chimed in, “Per ess ee phone, Gee Ay Em Be Oh El.”

“Address?”

“Kinda don’t have one.”

“Got a place to stay? Friends?”

“Probably, maybe... I don’t know, look I need to make a phone call okay.”

“Look, Ms. Gambol, you’ve been through a rough night, there are women’s shelters, safe places you can go to, here, here’s a list of different places you can call. As for your stuff, check back in a week, here’s the phone, this is the precinct address. Okay?”

She nodded, taking the list and his card. It was definitely a strange sensation, walking out of a police station in a jumpsuit on the wrong side of a morning. After a nightmare of a night now the Suit was going to sit in a box marked evidence for a week, and Keri would have to come to pick her up. God, that was going to be an awkward conversation. Maybe the subway would be better, “Uhm, hey officer.”

“Agent, sure what is it, miss?”

“Can I bum a couple bucks to take the train?” She bit her lip and batted her eyelashes apologetically. She knew she had him in her pocket when he reached into his.

Joseph Lindsey had gone from a mild resemblance to Joaquin Phoenix in Gladiator, to a striking resemblance to Joaquin Phoenix, aspiring rapper, on Letterman. With hope of having any social life summarily abandoned, Joe let his stubble grow to beard and let his appearance slide. For eight months he’d been working on multiple projects in this research facility and seen the underside of what technology is really capable of. The hierarchy (and subordination) here had been intriguing at first but now he’d come to see that the masters on high got what (or who) they wanted, and there was little else for the peons below.

That’s when opportunity fell on his lap.

Or more accurately, a black set of garments was tossed into his lap, knocking over and spilling his long since gone cold Styrofoam cup of tea.

Joe looked up with an annoyed start to see the only person who’d be so brash and rude. Tracey Saint-bitch-enstien, she of the heinous clacking high heels. He probably would have heard her clacking if he hadn’t had his iPod up so high.

“Investigate this and report back to the Director.”

“What’s this? New costume for your slave duties?”

“New tech,” she replied with a sneer. Apparently she didn’t like the tongue-in-cheek, fist-pumping, and head-bobbing mockery he was giving her. “Infant,” she added as an afterthought.

“Aww, wittle slave bitch got maaad?” He noticed one of her two armed gorilla looking escorts crack a smile.

“You know, Joey, you’ve got four days to have a full report on that to the Director. I hope you don’t have any plans, oh wait, that’s right, you can’t see anyone but the Doctor and the other lab rats. Well, that’s lucky. Oh yeah, and love the new do, I bet it impresses all the girls you fantasize about while you’re beating off in the morning before breakfast on the can and at night in your cot when you think you have a moment of privacy. Oh, didn’t you know, your cot and bathroom are under surveillance now? Kisses and Toodles!”

With an acidic victory smile and a cutesy taloned wave that demon of a slave-woman traipsed off with her escort to the Doctor, presumably. Apparently, he was the one the Director wanted to see today, not Joe. That meant that in four days the harpy and her two ogres would be back for him. It was a matter of no small resentment that she seemed to have more freedom than he did. Constant surveillance, no freedom of movement, having to work on exactly what he was told and having no contact with his friends or family and no hope of making new ones. He was certainly more of a slave than she was in every way that really mattered. Joe could feel his bile rise in an impotent tide of hate.

He sighed and got to work on the suit.