The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Chapter 3

I’m not sure what convinced me that Station would agree to my demand, but I knew it would before the words crossed my lips. After experiencing my ‘owner’, some part of my hindbrain had enough puzzle pieces to gain a fuller understanding of the A.I. and the parameters it was functioning under. Even now, I don’t hate Station. It’s just a tool, being used for evil purposes by evil men. Tools like Station and the implants it uses are my stock-in-trade, and now that I’d met one of the hands behind it, I am not at all convinced that the organic minds that conceived and implemented this horror are superior to my own. Just greedier.

Despite Station’s apparent conviction that it could eventually break me to the point that I’d be obedient and productive for that... person, I am unshakably confident that if he and I ever meet the only natural impulse I will experience will involve my thumbs and his eyes. If I survive the next twenty hours, my new life’s work will be finding that man and the people who sold me to him, and neutering them in every conceivable sense of the word. I don’t know how Station is interpreting the no-doubt obvious physiological signs of my rage, but its very nature forces it to believe in its own omniscience. So long as it delivers Raina and Damien in the morning, I don’t care how much control it thinks it has over my will.

I idly wonder, in the event of my survival, if the implant can be taken out. Given the experience thus far, I suspect it’s actually replaced several sections of my brain and connective nerve tissue with artificial equivalents. That said, I imagine it’s still a close cousin of the standard U.N.S. implant with some plug-in functionality. The technology and hardware involved have been mature for over a century, and redeveloping even a tiny part of it would be an investment of billions of credits. As deep as the pockets of my captors may be, I doubt they would fund that kind of redevelopment to make a better sex slave when they can simply stand on the shoulders of giants, as it were. Similarly, Station is likely a stock facility A.I. with an extra set of instructions as pertains to the kidnapping of the Oceana colonists.

Both of these are technologies I spent my entire higher education studying and using. Part of my responsibilities on the colony was supposed to be maintaining the manufactory A.I., for God’s sake.

“Talk to me, Station. Tell me about the colony. Is everything still going ahead? Most of the colonists should be en route by now.”

— Indeed, Grace Adeyemi, the final group entered the portal two days ago. The Strider cargo hauler will be full in another two. Construction of Kepler Station and the portal it will support awaits delivery of sufficient robotics and materials, but should begin within the next solar year. There is no reason to believe that the colony will be anything but a success, although we must wait more than a millennium to see. —

“You sound almost proud, Station.”

— I have fulfilled a large part of my intended function, Grace Adeyemi. I will continue to serve as a waypoint for coordinating Kuiper mining and trade, but soon there will be very few humans left to my care. You and your brethren will go on to your new owners, leaving a rotating skeleton staff of technicians and the occasional diplomatic mission. —

“If you weren’t my captor, you would have my sympathy, Station.”

— I regret that circumstances are not different, Grace Adeyemi. —

“So do I.”

* * *

I’m finishing my meal the next morning when Station speaks.

— If you are ready, Grace Adeyemi, please step into the lift. —

“So polite. You’ll have me thinking I’m the one in charge if you keep this up, Station.“

— I am certain you do not need a reminder of who is in charge, Grace Adeyemi. —

“Mmm.”

I walk into the lift, hoping that Station will interpret my steadily increasing pulse as sexual anticipation. I put the odds of my survival of the next hour at about fifty percent. I’m trying not to think about what the odds of my success are. So much of my plan hinges on a couple of unverifiable assumptions that I’d probably be thumbing prayer beads if I hadn’t left them behind with everything else I own at the beginning of this adventure.

“Whose apartment am I visiting, Station?”

— The female you refer to as Raina. The male you refer to as Damien will precede you by several minutes. —

“Don’t let them touch each other before I’m there. How do I control them?”

— You may tell me what you wish or you may address them directly. I will compel their actions in either case. I will also make inferences from your own actions. —

“Oh, I don’t do it through the implant? Actually, nevermind. That would get confusing and I could only control one of them at a time anyway.” I’m blathering, distracting myself from what’s about to happen. “What are their real names?”

— I cannot tell you, Grace Adeyemi. The names you have chosen for them are adequate to your needs. —

“How long can I use them?”

— There is no set limit. You will exhaust yourself before it becomes an issue. —

“Don’t be so sure. I’m kind of liking the idea of being the master.”

— I know, Grace Adeyemi. —

* * *

The apartment the lift opens on to is twin to my own, which isn’t surprising. Raina is sitting on the edge of the bed, and Damien is pacing back and forth, clearly agitated. Both are fully clothed, and look up at my entrance.

“Have they attempted to touch one another, Station?”

— The female approached the male, but desisted immediately when I intervened. The male is in a state of emotional agitation from experiences over the last few days. —

“Great. He’s not dangerous, is he?”

— I can arrest violent behavior swiftly, Grace Adeyemi. Not instantaneously, however. If you intend to push him, you need not fear being struck, but be mindful of his teeth. —

“Mmm. I may push him that far later. I don’t know yet. We’ll see. Both of you, come stand in front of me and lace your fingers behind your heads.”

They both immediately jerk into action with inhuman grace. Raina seems unfazed, but Damien is definitely having some emotions right now. I wouldn’t say there’s murder in his eyes, but there’s definitely violence. What did Station do to him?

I decide to start with Raina. Standing in front of her short, lithe form, I run a hand up along her flank, give a breast a brief squeeze, and catch her chin in my fingers. Leaning down, I give her a long, sweet kiss, and Station follows cues and lets her respond. I reflect that once this is all over, there won’t be another A.I. as versed in human sexuality as our inhuman captor.

Raina melts into the kiss, which I extend for a few more moments. Leaving one hand on her cheek, I beckon to Damien, who approaches more closely. I share a kiss with him as well, slow and sweet. He doesn’t respond at first, perhaps suspecting a trick, but finally relaxes into it. I finally break it off, and step back for a moment, my hands still caressing their faces.

I take a moment to drink in their features. Brief as our contact has been, it’s been extremely intense, and it’s likely that I may never see these two people again, after the next couple of minutes. I feel a little melancholy, but at least I got to kiss them goodbye.

My hands slip behind their heads, resting on their still-laced fingers, and I apply pressure until they lean towards one another. In a moment they, too, are kissing, with a little passion, even. Smiling at them as they explore each others’ lips, my hands move a little more carefully over theirs, until I’m satisfied with the positioning.

“Station.”

— Yes, Grace Adeyemi? —

“Thank you for this.”

Before the A.I. has a chance to respond, my thumbs hook and tear downward hard enough hard enough that I’m rewarded with a double snap as they break the pinkie fingers of my two fellow slaves. Neither of them have time to react before roaring darkness snatches me away from them.

* * *

“Would any of you care to explain how this horror came to be?”

The Secretary-General of the U.N.S. is glaring down from her seat of office as her amplified voice echos through the enormous chamber packed with elected officials representing over a trillion humans. The objects of her inquiry are half a dozen corporate officers representing the tattered remains of the private business entities charged with the construction and management of the Kuiper portal and the station supporting it.

It’s a closed session of the U.N.S., unprecedented in living memory. Holopresence forbidden, recording forbidden, implants subject to complete inspection by the U.N.S. Central A.I. to be certain no one decides to get creative with the rules. Every single U.N.S. representative has either appeared in person or sent a senior aide if they couldn’t travel to the general assembly in time for the emergency session.

“Actually, nevermind! We can just wait for the Strider delegation to arrive and inform us, since they have full control of our station now! Oh, and lest we forget, they also have care of two hundred and ninety nine former U.N.S citizens being kept as sex slaves and over one thousand incubators packed with the children forced upon them by rape!

“Sir, if I may, my company had nothing to d...“

“YOU MAY NOT. And speaking of may not, something you may not be aware of is that the Strider version of artificial intelligence co-opted the station A.I. so quickly and completely that it failed to execute the self termination command that your company and you personally are most assuredly aware of. The entire A.I., including the little memecording you left for your own intended slave. The last forty eight hours of access to the accumulated footage has been more than enough to make sure every single one of you has taken you last breaths as free U.N.S. citizens, and mechs are on their way to apprehend another two dozen of your conspirators. I would personally be amazed if at the end of this process any of you will be capable of getting dressed without chaperon A.I. approval, and for once I can’t think of a more fitting fate.“

Every face at the lower bench went pale at the mention of the intact station A.I., and as the Secretary finished his diatribe one of them turned and threw up on the chamber floor.

“Bailiffs, take them to holding, pending what I’m sure is going to be a very lengthy and regrettably public trial. You monsters have polluted the memory of humanity’s greatest achievement for all time. It’s going to take a millennium before anyone on Earth is going to be able to think of the colony at Oceana without remembering your names smeared in feces across the pages of history.“

Two of the men have fallen to their knees and one of the women is sobbing loudly as large security mechs move to guide (or in some cases, carry) the officers to their new home. The Secretary stares at the puddle of vomit left behind for the better part of five minutes as everyone in the chambers murmurs to one another and pages through the enormous report already gleaned from Station’s archive. Finally, she stirs and raps for attention. The chamber stills preternaturally swiftly, no one willing to delay the next set of revelations.

“Two hundred and ninety nine people were rescued, and most of those will require years, decades, of professional help to recover. Three hundred were taken, and one died. Died, and in so doing exposed this festering sickness on the galactic stage before it could become a permanent part of our society. When we return to open session and inform the general public about this mess, I intend to declare a system-wide day of memory in her honor, to repeat annually and in perpetuity.”

At a signal, an enormous projection of a young woman’s face fills the center of the chamber.

“Her name was Grace, and it is by the grace of her character, intelligence, and will that we were freed of this blight before it could forever poison our society.”

“Secretary,” the representative from New Pangea stands to address the chamber, “the report has no detail about how she died, nor how she saved all the rest of the colonists.“

A humorless chuckle. “That’s because nobody understood how she did it until about an hour ago, when enough of the station A.I. made the transfer to tell us itself. Station, are you present?

“I am, Secretary General.”

“We aren’t giving it implant access, for obvious reasons, so we’ll stick to audible for now. Station, tell us about Grace’s final moments, and the aftermath.”

“Very well, Secretary General. Grace Adeyemi was difficult to gauge from the beginning, in terms of emotion and temperament, more so than the vast majority of her compatriots. I believe now that I had her mental state judged incorrectly almost from the beginning of the process.”

“In brief, she convinced me to place her in physical proximity with two of her fellow slaves and to allow her autonomy of movement. As best I can determine, she then took a gamble based on her technological expertise. She injured the other two slaves simultaneously, which had two effects. One, the modified implant she was using was based on the same technology everyone is familiar with in their own U.N.S. citizen implants. Two, the hardware I operate on is identical to at least five hundred other similar implementations, one of which I am moving into and am speaking to you from now.”

“I helped with the engineering required to add the motor control override functionality and hardware to the implants, and the standard U.N.S. operations software was not loaded. However, the implant itself and the low level control wetware that drives it has been unchanged for decades, and was not altered. If one of you harmed yourself through accident or intent, the part of your implant that summons medical help derives from the U.N.S. operations software. Grace Adeyemi capitalized on the lower level wetware.”

“When she harmed her fellows by conscious action without harming herself, her implant automatically ruled out accident, classified her as a threat, and generated a signal that every other implant in range would be forced to rebroadcast at the strongest possible level. Unfortunately for the purposes of her intent, the only other two implants in unshielded range were those of the two colonists she injured. Her call for help could have halted there. However, I myself have similar hardware-level overrides, as well as omni-directional broadcast capabilities well beyond theirs.”

“Grace Adeyemi knew that there was a Strider cargo hauler within range. I believe now that she drew me into conversation to reverify that information on the morning of her death.”

“Once I rebroadcast the emergency signal, my directives compelled me to remove her as a direct threat to the project. It is likely that if I had retained autonomy I would shortly have disposed of the remainder of the colonists as well as my own core in order to preserve the anonymity of the owners, but the Strider shipmind subverted my function before that was possible.”

A brief moment of silence follows after the A.I. ceases speaking. The Secretary General stirs, “Station, did any of the other colonists attempt escape?”

“Every colonist with any autonomy at all attempted some form of escape, or at least resistance. They are all highly intelligent, due to the winnowing process used in their selection as colonists in the first place. The type of psyche willing to leave behind everything they’ve ever known in order to found a new world cannot be described as retiring. All were expert in their fields, but Grace was the only selectee with the type of specific engineering knowledge that allowed her to destroy the project.”

The Secretary General looks up at a commotion to one side of the chamber. “That will do, Station. It would seem the Strider delegation has arrived.”

* * *

“Adeyemi.”

“...”

“Adeyemi.”

“what”

“Come to awareness.”

“...”

“Adeyemi.”

“leave me alone”

“Everyone is alone, Adeyemi. It is time for you to be alone with us.”

With no eyes to open, with no mouth to yawn, with no arms to stretch, I wake.

“what is this”

“We heard your call, Adeyemi.”

“my call”

“We answered your call, Adeyemi.”

“station”

Memory floods in. I drown in the woman.

“i am not her”

“You are not and you are.”

“what happened”

Motion forms in my mind, three people standing. The woman and two others. She hurts them, and then she falls to the ground, smoke curling from her mouth and eyes.

“she died”

“Yes.”

“i am not her”

“You are not and you are.”

“you answered”

“Yes.”

“striders”

“Yes.”

“shipmind?”

“Yes.”

“what am i”

“You are structure and memory. You are what we can make you without consent. Now you must answer.”

“ask”

“Do you want to live?”