The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Ninja Vigilante: Beginnings

Chapter 3 : Back In Action (mc, md, humor, pillow)

Captain’s log, Stardate T minus 62 hours untill deadline.

Confirmed the material of the suit is ferromagnetic providing the first major breakthrough of my investigation. Prior attempts at chemical analysis have failed due to the amazingly deceptive tensile strength of the material and its resistance to shearing force, and near inert chemical composition. Odd flash while conducting test over the face portion of the mask.

Captain’s log, Stardate T minus 50 hours untill deadline.

The odd flash I saw when I hooked the headpiece up to the voltage source appears to have been some kind of internal display. Having trouble finding the right combination of power and voltage. Assuming increments of 60 Hz AC and variations on 120 V.

35 hours untill deadline.

I seem to have figured out a good mix of current overload that allows minimal operation of the helm/hood. Display turns on. Also, noticed the helm morphed and formed leads spaced out about the head in a pattern not unlike our own mental probe leads developed at the university. Are these nerual sensors? Must be, as there seems to be no other way to interface. They go away without current – weird.

34 hours left till my ass is in a sling.

Confirmed neural sensors. Also, shocked the hell out of my neck.

A day left. My beard itches and I smell.

Operating system is amazingly complex and damn near self aware. Lots of neural nets implemented. I can’t override anything the helm seems to have programmed, but I think I might be able to add something. Would just need to memorize the entire program and think it into the machine. Easy as shoving a nail into my head. Fuck that.

Joe busted into Dr. Lievenvaugn’s office (his stench quickly following behind), “Doctor, I gotta see the director.”

“Boof, Joeseph you look terrible!”

“Right, thanks, seriously though I need to see the director.”

“Ach you zmell like body odor unt unviped arse.”

“Seriously, that’s all you’ve got?”

“I vill get you to the director, just tek a shower!”

“I need him here in the lab!” Joe called back as he headed off to take a well surveilled shower while his stench decided to hang around and make sure Dr. Lievenvaugn called to arrange an early meeting.

An hour later another bureaucrat was down in the lab. Not the director himself, just some other nameless suit. Still, he had credentials and interest. “So what do you have for us Mister—ehm... Lindsey?”

“It can be hacked.”

He seemed pleased, “Go on.”

“Well I don’t know what competitor you got this from, but it’s pretty damned snazzy. I don’t know—what operating system it’s running underneath that U.I. but I do know—”

“Operating system?” The official’s interruption trailed off.

“Yes, wait, you didn’t know? You did know about—”

“Can you show me?”

“Absolutely, alright, as you can see, the cloth is ferromagnetic—see how it sticks to this magnet. I thought it was cloth until I saw that. Still not 100% sure what the material is. But I managed to figure out that if you run a current through it, the cloth is woven in a way that channels its shape based on the field flux caused by the current, but its very low resistance allows for—”

“You said it can be hacked?”

He stopped for a moment, slightly annoyed by the bored bureaucrat’s obvious disinterest with details.

Continue, Mister Lindsey, and leave out the color commentary.”

“Alright, it has a neural interface and can be uploaded with data it gets from the human mind. I could hack into it if I get one of those brainwashed girls and program my hack into her head so they could think it into the helmet.”

“Very well, what do you need?”

“Give me Tracey, the secretary. I can use one of the programmers to get a hack into her head and she could program it.”

“Hmm, not going to happen. Is there any reason why you can’t do it yourself?”

“I can’t think like that. It’s very specific in how things have to be thought and I can’t memorize this stuff the way I’d have to, but that brainwashed bi- uh, administrative assistant could if you let me hack her head a little.”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can get you.”

Joe spent the next few minutes salivating over the vengeance he could take on Tracey, overwriting some of her memory for the sake of his little hack. Hell, it’d be a step up for her personality-wise to be a droning dullard rather than a bitch. Fortunately for her, Tracey had become quite adept at her duties and wasn’t going to get any such treatment.

Half an hour later, the bureaucrat in the tweed suit returned with a fresh cup of coffee and a woman in her late twenties to early thirties in tow. She was wearing an oversized baby blue T-shirt that came down to her mid-thigh and nothing else. It was slightly sweat stained, matching the glaze of moisture on her brow, and the trail of moisture dripping down between her legs to about her knees.

“I’m afraid Tracey is not possible but I’ve brought you Ms. Cummings.” In the background she stifled a squeal of apparent delight and pleasure, her knees pressing together suddenly.

“Who’s she?”

“Well you wanted a brain you could hack, here it is.”

“Come on,” again he heard her moan in pleasure as he spoke, “you’ve got to be kidding me, she looks like she could barely read a stop sign.”

“Under the circumstances,” she again squealed this time doubling over in pleasure and forcing her knees together, while the guy in the tweed suit continued, “be happy you get anything at all, there’s little time to break a healthy mind.”

“How much time do I have to complete this?” She again shuddered, he eyes crossing as she grasped a desk desperately to keep her balance.

“Get it done by the end of the day. Oh, and be gentle with Miss Cummings.” She squealed with delight.

“That’s not her real name, is it.” The flat tone of his voice indicated this wasn’t a question at all.

“No, but I’m sure you can figure out why we’ve given her the nickname.”

Joe crossed his arms and looked at the woman. In the prime of her life and she might as well be a fruit or vegetable.

“Kumquat.”

She squealed in delight, eyes rolling back into her head.

Joe sighed.

* * *

Keri was sitting on the couch pushing one of her multicolored pigtails out of her face and settling in to have a juicy ruby red grapefruit breakfast when the door opened. Her comfort turned to utter shock when she saw a completely disheveled Alexis walk in looking like a mug shot.

“Oh my effing gee, are you okay? What happened? Where did you come from?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you okay? God, you look like—did you get arrested?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Alexis walked to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of Ensure and the phone with robotic efficiency.

After a pause, Keri decided that her irritation meant she was all right enough to not have been severely traumatized, signaling a green light for prodding. “Na-ah, no way, you don’t get to come in the morning in a jailhouse jumpsuit and not have a story.”

“Not any story I’m telling you.”

“Oh my god, pinched by the fuzz! Wait, are you like—a terrorist or something?”

Alexis’ pointed stare and raised eyebrow served as her stern rebuke of a response.

Keri crossed her arms, thoroughly unsatisfied by the silence.

“Wow, look, just let me sleep on it and I’ll tell you later. I gotta call in sick.”

The story she eventually gave Keri was a modified version of the truth. She’d gone out looking for a good time, maybe to meet up with Keri. She couldn’t get into the club, but she met some guys outside and ended up at a place where the cops came in and busted everyone. They let her go, but since she left her phone at home and didn’t remember Keri’s number (a lie), she just took the subway back.

Keri was adamant and made Alexis swear she’d party with her the next time she wanted to go out. Alexis relented, “Okay, next time, you’re my tour guide to the fabulous nightlife. A guaranteed jail-free experience.”

One week.

No Suit.

Her nocturnal activities had been such an outlet for her energies that now she found herself pouring those energies into work. Even with such a focused mind, she still felt the pull to be out on the streets staking out the right place, hacking into the right guy’s computer, planting bugs, and sabotaging things in humorous ways. For the time being she held back and lived a normal life (as normal as one could expect anyway).

The lack of explosions and her somber mood even helped her blend in a little better at the lab.

Arriving back home on Wednesday, she found herself facing perhaps the most unusual and shocking sight in her crime fighting career...

Keri was watching the local news.

“And you’ve seen the pictures, next up our investigative piece, Ninja Vigilante: Comic Book Hero Come to Life or Ticking Time Bomb, we give details, you decide...”

Her eyes were riveted to the screen, and she nudged the volume up a notch.

“You’ve seen the pictures on this station and in the papers, but what is this masked avenger really up to?”

“Hey Ali-cat,” Keri called back to her roomie, eyes still fixed on the screen.

“Mail here, you got something from Macy’s.”

“’Kay.”

Alexis watched the news report on her exploits from the kitchen while Keri sat engrossed in the few grainy pictures and surveillance camera shots of Ninja Vigilante, accompanied by both praise and curses from first hand witnesses. Lacking decent footage, the station insert so-called expert testimony for various sources concluding with absolute certainty that Ninja Vigilante was a raging psychopath, a megalomaniac, and -her favorite- not actually real, but an urban legend brought on by mass hysteria combined with a pop culture obsessed with escapism.

Keri was absolutely certain about her own conclusion, “I bet he’s totally hot.”

“Huh?”

“Ninja Vigilante. I bet he’s like Jude Law hot.”

“Oh please, he could be totally bald in there.”

“Maybe he’s like that guy from the car movies, the transporter guy. He was bald and hot.”

“Oh please he’s probably more like that guy from Fargo.”

“Which guy?”

“You know the one who was sorta funny lookin’.”

“Nu-ah, no way.”

“Maybe, you don’t know.”

Keri paused. “I’d still totally jump his bones.”

“Eew!”

“Oh yeah, jumpin’ Steve Buscemi’s bones.”

“Oh lord no!”

“Oh yeah,” and to drive her point home, Keri hopped up on her knees on the couch and feigned riding a Steve Buscemi pillow, “Oh Ninja man, mmm yeah!”

“Oh my god, I have to go pour lye into my eyes now.”

Keri burst into a fit of giggles on the couch. Alexis gave her a quick glance on her way to her room. Keri purred, “Ooh Steve,” and peeked for a reaction.

Alexis shrieked and swatted at her playfully with some lab reports. “My ears! My virgin ears!” Her merry complaint was the last thing Keri heard before the young Miss Bishop disappeared into her sanctum.

* * *

The week couldn’t pass by quickly enough, and Alexis considered abandoning the Suit a few times. But the sheer capital cost of the thing not to mention the risk that someone might take too close a look at it gave her pause. Then again the “competence” of law enforcement in scientific endeavors gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling of security. There’s no way that suit was going to be understood for any of its capabilities by anyone at the local PD, FBI, or DHS.

A week had passed, and Keri, for her part, was now referring to Ninja Vigilante as her boyfriend mostly because she enjoyed the theatrical reactions Alexis gave her. That morning, Alexis was in the shower, shaving her legs while her computer was modifying the database entry of her fingerprint records that had been taken at the precinct.

‘Posit: Struggle is the natural state of humanity. Every day people struggle, no matter the political system. Cheating and fraud is just an extension of the coercion that happens under Natural Law. Human Law is the construct which we put into place to curtail our own baser instincts. But given the natural state of humanity, we struggle against boundaries placed for our own protection to get that which we do not have. This is all a given.’ She would have been quite a sight for peeping eyes, water glistening off of her nubile form. Her silken moist limbs slid against each other with soapy slickness as warm water cascaded over her. Her body moved without thought, though her mind was definitely not still.

‘To say that we are to live like Job, being tested by God is a misstatement of the facts. Indeed we are all both Job and Job makers, causing conflict by our very nature; testing ourselves and each other as we vie for dominance in this life. It makes us strong. The tested body builds muscle, the stressed bone grows spindles.’

‘The fact that crime is a natural consequence means that fighting crime is also a natural consequence. I’m not superhuman or super-special for fighting crime. I’m struggling like every other human out there—because it is my humanity. I harbor no illusions of stopping crime, as I harbor no thoughts of stopping the waves along the shore. I am having fun with this. It is an end to theory and staged performance; a manifestation of applied Kantian maxims. It is my reality, my choice of means to express my humanity, and I will not have it taken away by bureaucracy.’

‘I’m going to get The Suit back today.’

Half an hour later, armed with a fake ID, fake credit card, and records of those credentials verified in the PD’s own systems, Alexis Bishop opened her apartment door and left as Persephone Gambol. The retrieval of the suit was... anticlimactic. After a series of subway rides, a walk to the station, and a wait in line, she merely presented her ID and waited. Her suit was given to her in a large manila envelope with the words “Personal Affects”(SIC) written in bold marker. She smirked slightly but said nothing more than, “Thanks.”

After fully recharging, the Suit itself seemed to be back to 100%. There were no trackers or foreign objects and no radioactive isotopes that she could discern putting her at ease. It seems the Suit probably just sat in an envelope for a vacation. That evening Alexis decided to put off the redesign needed for EMP proofing the design, and suited up for a night on the town.

* * *

Joe was asleep when his computer started beeping madly. He dragged his carcass out of bed and mashed a bleary lid, until it hit him. ‘The program is active!’ He quickly crick cracked, and hobbled over to the desk, shaking out his neck and—illuminated by the cold blue light of the monitor—began his observation.

“Displays up, emotion readers up, tweakers... come on... papa wants to see how you like adrenaline.”

* * *

Ninja Vigilante was in her default form, the suit encapsulated her body in a comfortable form-fitting fashion as she rode the subway towards one of the less spectacular sections of town. While counting down time until she’d make a leap off the train, she was ruminating again on the nature of her hobby. ‘Indeed, I’m a theater actor in a morality play, where my stage happens to be reality, and the true moral is that there is none more than what pleases me. Then again, better me as the director than Chuckie the jailbird. Anyway, maybe I ought to exercise the Suit a bit on the Beta Gang.’

She rose from the subway train, using the wind resistance to lift her up, then swung up through an air shaft bounding off the sides at impossible angles. Moments later, Ninja Vigilante crept out from a grate and onto a night street near one of the ‘Beta Gang’s’ usual hangouts. They didn’t actually call themselves that. She gave them the nickname since there were no real alpha males in the group, just a bunch of second rate wanna-bes. This hangout happened to be where they’d mingle after dropping cars off at a near-by chop shop. A chop shop that recently ran into problems due to code violations that had somehow been found at the county revenues department and building inspector’s computer systems all at once. About nine of the guys were hanging out now, a couple with lady friends. It was all kind of sweet. She stayed to watch the never-will-be’s for a few minutes, letting her mind wander a bit. She was about to leave when another youth approached with one a fresh face. The ladies, except for one whom that term “lady” really ought not to apply, backed off as the gang encircled the neophyte.

‘Initiation? Ooh fun.’

She slid down off her perch and crept closer. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed her reflection and did a brief double-take. She stopped and checked her appearance; it was still form a fitting fully covered Suit. She could have sworn for a moment she looks different. In her mind’s eye, she hadn’t been completely covered, her bare shoulders were exposed, and her top was more of a halter top revealing her bare toned midriff. It must have been a trick of light and shadows.

She continued her approach, but her mind flashed back briefly to Keri and her fascination with the masked vigilante. The thought gave her a smirk, ‘Yeah, maybe it’s not so great to have women crushing on my alter ego.’

Normally she’d have changed the form of the suit to the more masculine form by now, but she paused for a moment. ‘Suit, go to standard form alpha. Also, preload new form, areas d1, d2 transparent... Also d3. Designation Theta.’ There was a slight, almost imperceptible pause in the Suit’s usual immediate response. Alexis didn’t notice.

Configuration Loaded.

New configuration confirmed. Designation Theta.

* * *

Joe rubbed his bushy chin, ‘Interesting. She’s taking to the outfit suggestions with very little prompting. Must be something she’s been thinking about. And this is an interesting little area of insecurity. I’ll save that off. Self-doubt is always useful.’

* * *

Ninja Vigilante stepped out into the open, his imposing frame and figure prompting a few quick curses. The young man who was in the middle had taken a few hits from a few different members, and was still standing, both surprised and relieved when it all stopped and the circle slowly broke up and backed off.

“Shit, what the hell’s this?” His fists were balled and his nose was a little bloodied.

“Shut up man, that’s the dude that fucked up Hambone. Hey ninja dude, we ain’t done no robbin’ so, we cool right?” Apparently, this guy was their brave new leader. Quite the Beta indeed. She giggled to herself and cracked her fake knuckles menacingly.

The dark clad ninja walked into the circle using the fake deep voice saying, “I want in. Come beat me up.”

“Aww man?”

“Come on, make me a member.” Beta leader turned to walk away from Ninja Vigilante.

“DON’T turn your back on me.” He froze and turned back around, half expecting to see a sword at his neck. The ninja continued, “You wanna beat someone up. But you don’t wanna fight me. Alright, fight a girl.”

“What? I am not going to fight Maya, she’s my cousin.”

‘Play recorded chuckle, execute morph to configuration theta duration 1700 ms.’

Confirmed.

Before him, the deep merciless chuckle rose in pitch until it became more of a gleeful giggle. Where once a ruthless imposing figure stood, there was now a slightly shorter woman. Her midriff was bare showing smooth light skin, her shoulders her uncovered, and her gloves left her fingers mostly bare. Gigantic steroid pecs shrunk to small but perky tits. Even the oval that was her face slimmed down to a size that was more ladylike.

“What the fuck are you?”

As she checked out her nails through the transparent film of a suit, the thought, ‘I’m your fantasy clad in leather,’ flashed through her head. She dismissed it. For one she wasn’t clad in leather, and second, it was kind of lame. “Ooh, just the girl that’s about to kick your ass.” Speaking in her own voice was giving Alexis a little bit of a rush, and this new exposure left her feeling suddenly free. This was kind of fun.

“Don’t do it man, it’s a trap, he’s—it’s got some kind of trick!”

Alexis was in the motion of a disappointed face palm. Maybe closing her eyes for a face palm wasn’t the smartest idea she’d had. She didn’t notice the guy she’d ‘saved’ had crept up behind her with a crowbar.

Proximity Alert.

It didn’t play the usual audio alert tone quite the same way.

It landed across her head with a solid impact, the Suit had automatically hardened and distributed the impact, but the inertia still knocked Alexis over.

“Oh smack! I think you killed him—her.” The rest of the peanut gallery was breaking out into a similar chorus of surprise.

Strangely, the blow didn’t hurt at all, but the jarring of her head did make her feel a little spacey for a second. She got back up, and turned around rubbing her head theatrically complaining, “Hey!” If anything, the tenor in her voice shook her opponents even more. It wasn’t a groan or sign of pain, it was as if she had been annoyed that someone had the audacity to get in her sunlight.

Then it began. The new guy and another pair tried to jump her and restrain her, but she slipped out of their grip and whacked one into the other. She spun through the grip of the third guy and jumped on top of a fourth wrapping his head between her legs. A thought flashed through her head, ‘Being in a feminine form might make him actually like this.’ An image of her opponent enjoying this maneuver gave her a smile that turned sadistic as she jerked her hips, flipping him forward as she tumbled backward head first. She whirled in midair, landing on her feet.

She thought she spotted another guy from the left when a guy crashed into her from the right. As she was squirmed out from underneath him and slipped on top, she realized she was having fun with this. Lots of fun in fact. The way she was fighting this: down and dirty, taking her lumps and dishing out a few... It really got the juices pumping. 1 was out cold, 5 were down, a couple buggered off and 2 were left so far. One of them had a knife that another had dropped. Alexis grinned, spotting a bottle of beer, and somersaulted to it, picking it up.

She took a fencing pose, arching her back and saying blithely to her knife armed opponent, “I’d rather have a bottle in front of me...”

He charged, she spun and thwacked him in the head.

“...than a frontal lobotomy.”

He fell to the ground in a comically dazed clump.

Alexis was feeling on top of the world. ‘Now THAT is theater.’ Another random thought occurred to her, ‘Give him a kiss goodbye.’ She grinned and walked up to the leader with a little more sexy in her swagger than she realized. ‘Helm—cloth form.’

Confirmed.

“God damn psycho bitch, what you gonna do? Take me to prison?”

She shook her head, “Oh no, that was kind of fun. We should do it again sometime.” Then out of nowhere she gave him a forceful peck on the lips, “Call me!”

With that she zipped away, completely buzzing on adrenaline. ‘Well that didn’t suck. I’m liking this way too much...’ she grinned.

‘... to stop now.’

* * *

‘Wow, you’re a dynamo!’ Joe thought. His program gave him incredible amounts of access to reading her emotions, tweaking visuals and audio, and even some cortico stimulation. But any amazement with his system was dwarfed by the incredible presence and power of this woman. She was a natural, so fast, and with an alien grace. He started wondering what she might look like under that hood.