The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Gethyn ducked back out of sight, letting the General walk past his hiding place. Something about the General wasn’t right, it seemed obvious even to one as newly incepted as himself; Gethyn made a note to share breath with Carn at the earliest opportunity, and gain his view on the matter.

Dismissing it from his mind he looked around the green painted storage racks for an appropriate focusing talisman, finally selecting a piece of shattered brick. Quickly he dipped a finger into the pot of grissecon ink and finger painted a symbol on its flat side.

He had no idea what the symbol meant but was certain that it was the right one and that he’d drawn it correctly. Whenever he completed a rune it would send an erotic tingle through his index finger, he assumed that this was a sign that it was active. Satisfied with his work he placed the new rune-stone slightly further back behind the racks in the position that felt right his heightened senses.

The one problem he had with the Grissecon ink was that it made his fingers smell of sex. Even a human would notice it. Fortunately a mere human wasn’t likely to understand the significance of the odour and wouldn’t have the visual acuity to detect the pretty way his fingers were glowing. Everything would be over by nightfall so there was little chance that anyone would be wearing nightvision goggles.

“What the hell are you doing soldier?” demanded a voice behind him.

Gethyn jerked upright, hitting his head on the metal bracket, drawing blood. Swiftly he scrambled to his feet and put himself in a stance roughly equivalent to the ‘Attention’ pose, stealthily placing the pot of ink on the shelf behind him as he did.

For a moment Gethyn considered trying to seduce the sergeant as he had done with Patric, but something about the man’s tensed muscles told him it was already too late. Adrenaline surged and time seemed to slow. The Sergeant was inhaling, getting ready to raise the alarm.

Like a striking snake he lashed out, smearing a splodge of ink just above Martlet’s Larynx. Gethyn had no idea why he’d done it other than it had just seemed the ‘right’ thing to do.

Martlet gaped, like a fish out of water, startled to find that the power of speech had suddenly been denied.

Gethyn recognised the rune and allowed himself to feel a glow of pride in his own cleverness. The grissecon Sigil for silence, peace and contemplation was called ‘the world’ and was represented by a simple circular dot. He’d painted it several times as it formed a part every rune he was supposed to draw.

Even as one part of his mind was feeling clever for using his newfound ability with grissecon, the rest of his attention was focused on felling the sergeant with a kick to the stomach.

Martlet might have been silenced, but he was still a lethal professional, dodging the kick and falling back into an on-garde pose ready for Gethyn’s next attack.

A flurry of blows and counter blows followed, it was soon evident to Gethyn, that whilst his new body was faster and stronger, Sgt Martlet had the edge in skill and experience.

Gethyn blocked a knife-hand blow to his neck, backing up. An idea occurred to him, the symbol for ‘peace’ had silenced the human...perhaps it would work on limbs as well.

Martlet switched to a boxing stance feinting a right hook before jabbing with the left. Gethyn confidently twitched his head aside, grabbed the wrist and dabbed the back of Martlet’s hand with a larger version of the ‘peace’ circle.

The sigil flashed into life, Gethyn wasn’t sure which sense he was using to detect it, but he was certain that he’d gotten it right. Startled, Martlet yanked his arm free, backing away, the arm hanging limp as if it had been anesthetised.

Gethyn hesitated; somehow he’d created a connection. Grissecon was an utterly dark art to him, his sharing of breath with Carn had only given him a very limited understanding and even that had been focused on the requirements of the mission. He could feel Martlet’s arm, lying limp and relaxed; even feeling the brush of cloth where Martlet’s uniform touched the arm’s skin.

Meanwhile Martlet had apparently decided that he needed to retreat. Gethyn could tell this by the change in his opponent’s body posture but also with an echo through this weird connectedness that he was feeling.

In the last couple of hours he’d learned to trust the instincts of his new body. On a hunch he didn’t pursue, instead he relaxed his mind and tried to find a balanced point, sort of half ouana, half soume. Once he’d achieved the balanced meditative state (done with an ease that he found reassuring) he projected the sense of peace he was feeling.

Ten feet away the two peace sigils flared brightly against Martlet’s skin, reacting to the emotional state to which they were attuned with.

The Sergeant crumpled to the floor, as if struck by a taser bolt, his entire left side ‘at peace’. Desperately, the human tried to scrabble along the floor using his still working arm and leg.

Feeling suddenly confident Gethyn walked over to Martlet, grabbed him by his shoulder tabs and dragged him back into the darkened alcove. Now that he was physically closer, the effect increased ten-fold, Martlet was entirely paraplegic by the time they were safely hidden.

“Well, what am I going to do with you?” he asked. It was a rhetorical question. Aside from moving his eyes there was no sign that Martlet was able to respond.

“It’s a real dilemma. I can’t sit here thinking soothing thoughts all afternoon. I could inject you with my blood and turn you into one of us.” explained Gethyn stroking the marine’s stubble-cut head, feeling him tense-up at the mention of his eventual fate.

“Oh don’t worry, I can’t incept you. I have no idea how this” he gestured at the runes “...I guess we have to call it a spell... How this spell would interact with the progress.”

It really was a problem. Despite what he’d said to Patric, he found himself reluctant to butcher the helpless human. Suddenly an idea occurred to him, a complex rune! The peace sigil had been simple enough to create. If he could think up the right design...

He had no idea how he knew about the correct rune, it was just ‘there’ in the back of his mind almost as if it had been waiting for him to need it. It wasn’t one of the runes Carn had shared with him. It was as if some ‘power’ placed the rune there. Was there a trace of an unyielding entity, its hand outstretched like a chessplayer? There was no time to puzzle it out now.

Reaching behind him to the shelf where he’d hidden the inkpot, he dipped a finger into the Grissecon ink. Using his other hand he undid Martlet’s shirt and then jerking the marine’s khaki pants and underpants down far enough to reveal the human’s primitive reproductive organ.

The feeling of revulsion that the ugly thing caused in his guts surprised Gethyn. The squicky feeling almost disrupted the aura of peace that he was broadcasting. Fortunately he managed to control the emotion and forced himself to touch ‘it’. Once his hand was in place, all the odd fear of the thing evaporated, it was just meat, without any power of its own, a few swift masturbatory strokes stiffened the canvas for his painting.

Following the pattern that he’d been given, he traced a line of glowing ink down the six inch long organ and then painting branches so that it looked like a cartoon representation of an ouana-lim. The part of the rune that connected the organ to the bellybutton was more complex but still required relatively few deft strokes with his ink soaked finger. The last strands of the rune were more complex, taking the form of two intertwined knotwork lines that reached upward across the torso with one branch ending in a talon-like pincer that looked as if it might be pinching the nipple, the other doing the same at the other nipple.

The completed rune sent tingling pleasure up his arm signalling its activation. Whatever it was that he’d drawn it was individually more powerful than any of the other runes he’d painted, both the ‘peace’ and ‘enchantment’ runes were like child’s crayoning by comparison.

The rune’s ultraviolet glow began to spread as if it was seeping straight through into Martlet’s veins. For a moment Gethyn feared that the brightness of the glow might attract attention before remembering that, in fact, aside from Carn he was the only one capable of perceiving it.

The two ‘peace’ sigils began to pulse in sympathy and then began to flow; the simple circles rearranging themselves, becoming vastly complex designs that covered Martlet’s arm and neck like yakuza tattoos. The connection snapped in the same instant, his projection of peacefulness no longer having a rune to channel through. He leapt back startled.

Martlet squirmed on the floor, at first Gethyn thought that he was suffering but quickly realised that he was witnessing an expression of sexual joy. Whatever was happening, Martlet was enjoying it in a serious way.

“How may I best serve our people Tiahaar” said Martlet’d voice, using what Gethyn had learned was a wreaththu term of respect for an elder.

The voice was odd, sounding distant and young, almost like Carn, but more innocent.

“Martlet?”

“I’m not sure. I think I might be. Should I be?” asked the voice somehow eager, unsure and plaintive.

Gethyn sat back on his haunches. This was utterly beyond anything he’d ever dreamed of.

“I don’t know. I guess we’d better assume that you are Martlet for now. How’s that sound?”

“OK!”

“Carn will know what to do...I hope. I want you to find Carn and do as he says. Be careful not to let any of the others get suspicious. Can you do that?” instructed Gethyn pointing to the door of Carn’s temporary prison.

“I think so”

“Tell him I only have three more runes place”

“Ok!” The Sergeant adjusted his uniform to hide the glowing rune and headed toward the door at a pace that was almost a run.

“Extraordinary” Gethyn said to himself, looking at his glowing finger.

Carn heard the sound of someone hurriedly walking toward the room. With luck they wouldn’t get here before he’d finished focusing his mind on the rune covered pebble that the humans had been foolish enough to leave him with.

He’d never encountered unincepted humans before the expedition’s arrival. Mostly what he knew was from the campfire stories of his elders. As a harling he’d imagined them to be lumpy, hairy creatures that spoke only in grunts. Obviously he’d been wrong about the lumps and horns, but the fact that they’d allowed him to keep a powerful pebble like the one in front of him seemed clear proof that they were as stupid as he’d always imagined.

To any normal hara it would be obvious that he’d spent the last fraction of a day sending two streams of grissecon energy snaking their way from the pebble across the floor, like a pair of fast growing honeysuckle vines. The guards hadn’t even noticed the energy tendrils wrapping around their feet and legs.

The guards hadn’t even noticed the feeling of contentment or the overwhelming need to just stand very still. They’d accepted all of it, as if the emotions were their own; silly humans. Satisfied that the guards would no longer intervene, Carn wriggled his way out of the ropes that tied him to the support column. The whole point of getting captured had been to be on hand to assist Gethyn with the final part of the ceremony.

The footsteps continued to get nearer, but not quite quickly enough, the enchantment was already complete, the two guards wouldn’t awaken for anything less than physical pain. Carefully Carn repositioned himself so that it looked as if he were still tied.

His sense of smell was the first thing to tell him that the new arrival had also been tampered with. The unmistakable odour of sexual frenzy permeated the air around the human as he entered the room. The confirmation was a glow from a rune that could clearly be seen shining through the fabric of his shirt.

“Hi Tiahaar Carn! Tiahaar Gethyn says only three more runes to go! And I have to do anything you say!” Said the new arrival, sounding like a three-year-old Harling eager to help with the washing up.

It was just as well the guards were no longer capable of paying attention, Carn thought, surprised by the human’s demeanour.

“Show me your rune” he commanded, clearly the rune was having an effect, the exact crafting of the rune would explain it.

“Tiahaar Gethyn drew it for me! I’m new” babbled the soldier excitedly as he quickly unbuttoned to proudly show the entire rune.

Carn’s eyes widened, it was the most complex rune he’d ever seen, and he’d seen a lot. If Gethyn could come up with something like this, grasping the true concepts of rune-working, less than a day after inception, he truly had potential to be a hara of the highest caste.

The rune seemed to be a hybrid, one half was one of the runes that Gethyn had been taught to draw in their brief sharing of breath. In effect the human had become a living component of the enchantment they were constructing. The other half... It was something else entirely.

According to the instructions written across the human’s chest... No! That was incredible! No one with even the slightest understanding of rune-working would ever have tried something so outrageous!

The person...or rather the persona before him wasn’t human at all, he was a harling. More confusingly the harling hadn’t been born yet, the ‘time’ glyff woven into the rune pattern made that absolutely clear.

Carn read on, another clause of the rune specified that the summoned soul was the harling of two specific hara, named....

An icy stillness crept up Carn’s spine. One of the identity glyphs was unknown to him; the other was his! And that meant he was either sire or hostling to the ghostly persona.

“Do you know your name?”

“Gethyn called me Martlet. Look! It says it on my shirt!” replied the Harling pointing at some blocky human letters sown into the uniform

“That isn’t your name, that’s the name of the body you are wearing”

“Oh” replied his harling’s persona sounding as if a toy had been taken away

“But you can think up a name of your very own later”

Apparently the ghostly harling liked that idea and rewarded him with a sunny joyful smile.

Carn wondered if he should tell the harling that he was his parent, in the end, he rejected the idea; it would only cause distress and confusion.

The worst part of this situation was that this harling persona was frightfully vulnerable. All it would take was a smudge of that rune and he would be gone. Carn didn’t want to guess whether the Harling would simply return to his starting point or be destroyed.

Unfortunately the first part of the rune tangled everything up, the harling’s timelost spirit had become an intrinsic part of the great enchantment that they were creating.

“Stand there for a moment. I must check something” he instructed

Concentrating on the pebble again Carn attuned himself to the pattern of runes that Gethyn had been drawing, he’d drawn another two since he’d summoned Carn’s son. That left only the central rune and one rune out of place, presumably the one that was on his son’s chest.

“I have a very important task for you. You have to go stand next to the flying machines. Can you do that?”

“Yes!” replied the possessed human, turning and skipping toward the door

“Stop!” ordered Carn. “You have to be very careful not to get your rune dirty. And walk normally now. Its part of the game that the humans don’t think anything’s wrong”

“Oh....OK!” The harling began walking somewhat more normally.

Carn let out a deep ragged sigh. He and Gethyn were going to have a really long sharing of breath when this was over.

‘I’m going to have a son’. The thought kept popping into his thoughts, interrupting things, making him feel hopelessly young and insecure. Annoyed with himself he returned to his meditative pose and centred himself. A return to the calm, almost trance-like state, was a welcome relief from his swirling emotional turmoil.

Opening his eyes he cast an appraising glance at the two guards stood obliviously to one side. The grissecon bindings had begun to weaken due to his distracted state, but they’d still hold for the short time needed to deal with them permanently.

Quickly he walked over to the two and took a combat knife from the nearer human’s belt. Wincing slightly he drew the blade across first one palm and then re-opened the wound on the other.

With his index finger he pushed on the soldier’s chin so that the human’s head was looking at the roof and then did the same to the other. Standing on tiptoe he held his bleeding fists above the two mouths. Quietly he chanted the prayers that humbly asked the Dehar for successful inception and counted as the traditional twenty-one drops of blood dripped into the two upturned mouths.

In an ideal world all of the soldiers would be treated thus, but doing so would leave the hara that attempted it dead from blood loss long before he’d done all 712 of them.

Once sufficient blood had been passed he quickly turned to search the room for somewhere to store the two new hara. There wasn’t much in the way of cover, save for some boxes of sporting equipment thrown in one corner. Hurriedly he pushed the two toward the boxes and settled them down. The remnant of the enchantment would keep them relatively passive until the fever of their transformation rendered them unconscious.

Several huge tapestries hung from the roof. Obviously left over from the building’s original use. Each tapestry consisted of five simple interlocking rings on a white field. Being naturally disdainful of all things human and having strong views about that race’s barren simplistic artwork, Carn reached up and ripped the cloth down, using it to cover the two semi-conscious hara. It wasn’t ideal, but with luck they’d only need to be hidden for a short while.

General Pelton sat at his desk, a shot glass and half full bottle of vodka in front of him. The bastard Wreaththu had nearly gotten to him, nearly,¦ but not quite. He didn’t want to think about it, and yet the scene kept replaying in his mind.

Taking the shot glass he gulped down its contents, grimacing at the punishment to his throat, pouring another even as the first burned its way down. The more he thought about the alien, the more certain he became. Australia needed a nuclear cleansing.