The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The year was 2075. After the great U.S.—Russo-Chinese war of 2050 the world had changed dramatically. With entire regions being depopulated and countries breaking apart. In fact, neither the Chinese Communist Party nor the United States of America survived the fallout from the war intact. Laws and regulations had become weak and unreliable. National borders frayed. Chaos in the streets meant that many people with good jobs and money had moved into walled cities.

Climate change meant that many of these walled cities were now located further north than humans had typically prefered to live—with Canada, Alaska, and Siberia now containing the bulk of the western populations.

Arianna was a young woman living in English-speaking New Toronto. A city located 270 miles north of Old Seattle, which was now an empty crater devoid of human life.

Arianna had a job as a mind-manager for the New Toronto business district. She used special implants to root through the publicly accessible thoughts of foreigners who had recently immigrated to New Toronto. Her main job was to look for seditious thoughts.

Arianna was a great looking woman. She was five ten. She had blond hair and blues eyes. Clear skin. She had a very slight build. There was just one problem with her looks: she had no breasts whatsoever. In fact, Arianna had a body that was almost boyish.

Many women in the 2070s had this problem—radiation and chemical pollution widespread throughout the northern hemisphere had pushed western populations towards androgyny.

But, things were finally getting better in 2075. People were making money again. Businesses were booming in New Canada—now a colony of the Northwestern United States Federation. And as people became more wealthy, healthy and horny, sex appeal had become back in vogue for the first time in ages.

Big breasts were in. Really big breasts. And in this post—post-feminist frontier society a woman with a great rack could really get ahead.

Arianna was smart, but she was also young. A little craven. Eager to get ahead. It would be her undoing in a way.

She had gone to see a genetic therapist. Almost all of what the early 21st century called “medicine” and “health care” was now handled by genetic therapists. Through the use of viral cocktails that modified DNA, almost all human diseases were mangable.

And with the explosion of wealth in New Toronto, genetic therapists were also offering body modifying cocktails.

Arianna grimaced as the therapist injected her the fifteenth time. There was a bindfold over her eyes.

“I’ve taken like….over a dozen of these shots… and they haven’t gotten that much bigger” she whined.

Her therapist was a tall Nordic looking woman named Sarina. She was in her early 30s. She had incredible cheekbones, a nice pair of breasts (nothing like what Arianna longed for), and very long legs. She made Arianna jealous. But Arianna was pretty insecure.

Sarina let an almost imperceptible sigh.

“This new treatment requires repeated dosings and time to take effect. The cells have been gestating and growing inside of you. But now I’m going to deliver a big shot of fluids and nutrients. And then you can judge for yourself….”

She gave Arianna a sixteenth shot. Right into the corner of her left breast. She checked the IV drip. This was the first time they had hooked an IV to Arianna. This was supposed to be the last session.

Sarina took a deep breath. She hoped the therapy worked. A lot was riding on this.

“Ok. I am going to flash you with a light dose of cosmic rays. This will activate the new cells and prompt them to begin the reorganization process we’ve been waiting for.”

She aimed her ray machine at Arianna’s chest. She pressed the button.

There was a flash of light.

Arianna blinked and gasped.

Her breasts had grown tremendously. She had actually gone without a bra almost all her life because she had no discernable breasts, preferring simply to wear a t-shirt under her blouse to conceal her lack of a bra. But now, where previously she had almost no swelling around her chest and only slightly larger than male-sized nipples, now she had two incredible cannonball sized bulbs of warm flesh. Her nipples were the size of half-dollars.

The t-shirt underneath her blouse had not survived the transformation but had literally shredded itself. Pieces of fabric were still landing around her feet as she looked down.

She could feel her bulging breasts straining against her blouse, which was now comically undersized for her body. Her blouse’s shirttail now ended above her midriff, leaving her belly button exposed. The top three buttons of the blouse had launched themselves into space, never to return. The fabric was now transluscent.She looked like a bimbo who had just enrolled in a wet t-shirt contest.

She shivered involuntarily as the thought of herself having such a dramatically altered appearance.

As Arianna stared at her breasts—fully visible and barely obscured—and reflected that it was an absolute miracle that the blouse retained its form and not shredded. Even as she breathed she felt that the fabric was nearly at the breaking point.

And yet, the pleasure of it was exquisite. Waves of shivers passed up and down her spine. A warm feeling grew deep in her chest where her heart was located.

“This is incredible.” She breathed

“Do you like them?”

“I love them” she said, carefully wriggling her shoulders up and down to feel their heft.

“you can touch them, you know.”

She carefully pressed two fingers of each hand into the outsides of each breast. Feeling the giant breasts through her tight blouse.

Another button launched itself like a missile across the room—never to be seen again. Arianna barely noticed.

“My god! They feel so good!”

Touching the breasts caused alternating waves of tingles and warmth to shoot out from the points of contact and flow through her body.

“They are pretty good breasts, for sure. Much better than the average—they’re entirely organic, living tissue, but they have much higher firmness and density than the average rack of similar size. Plus, there are other, psychological benefits…”

Arianna looked up, not noticing the last part.

“But….what will people think?”

“what do you mean?”

“Well, no one will believe this just happened. People will think I had a….” she hesitated to say the word “boob job.”

The thought of people body-shaming her for her massively enhanced, and entirely beautiful, breasts filled Arianna with fear and guilt.

“Who cares what people think? You’ll look and feel great. The new culture loves women with big full breasts. And plus, these breasts have so many advantages over a boob job, not even counting the extra attention you’ll get from men, that your overall life story will be much happier. I can’t promise you that you’ll never be sad, but the highs will be higher, and last longer. And if you explore the full promise of these babies, you’ll find entire dimensions of positive human experience that otherwise would have been unavailable.”

In her typical rushed and craven way, Arianna was entirely unable to process the last part, and her mind skipped over most of what she had heard. She remained fixated on the mortifying thought of people judging her for a boob job.

“I don’t…..I can’t…” she said. She lowered her voice again, “people will think I’m a hussie.”

“Yes! But that’s part of the journey you’re on now! You’ll find greater joy in life from letting go of what people think of you. Their judgments don’t matter.”

Arianna looked unhappy.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I have to spell it out for you. Look, do you know how when men take testosterone their mood improves and they’re less sensitive to pain?”

Arianna nodded. She was, after all, a neuropsychology grad student. Or at least she was on the books—that was how she had originally gotten a membership ID in New Toronto. She hadn’t gotten very far through her studies though because she prefered her job—she made money and as long as she didn’t get reprimanded she could go to parties in the city after dark. Lots of girls were not allowed to go out after dark. She was a privileged person. If she just had the right body type, she could really become an alpha-female in the New Toronto community.

Sarina noticed that Arianna was spacing out. No doubt fantasizing about something ridiculous. But she continued anyway:

“Right. well, part of that testosterone boost is just the way that things don’t bother them. They feel good, they feel strong, so they don’t care as much what people think. That’s the real reason why men spend less time worrying and being unhappy than women. Now, these breasts aren’t just lumps of flesh. They contain complex nerve bundles and neurohormonal glands. These breasts will make you less troubled by the judgments of other people. Just try them out—you’ll see that you don’t care as much what people think of you. It’s easy to shrug off what you don’t want to be bothered by.”

Arianna looked unconvinced.

“Look, just try this: take your hands and gently squeeze your puppies together. See how it feels.”

Slowly and hesitantly, Arianna complied. She pressed in on the outer sides of her boobs with her hands.

“Now massage them a little.”

Arianna gently squeezed and relaxed, over and over,

Then she let out a sigh,

“oh.” She said quietly.

“How do you feel?”

Arianna kept squeezing.

“Oh. Oh.” She said again

“Squeeze harder”

Arianna complied, pumping her jugs with her hands,

“Oh by Zeus!! It feels great! I feel so….wow!”

“You see? Those breasts contain powerful neurohormonal glands. If you stimulate them, the glands produces a cocktail of pleasure, mood, and confidence boosting chemicals.”

“Wow. This is incredible!”

“So what do you think? Want to try them out? Keep them for a few days.”

Arianna looked down at her boobs uncertain. Then, as if making a decision, she gave each boob a firm honk with her hands.

“mmmhhh! Yes!! I’ll try it! Can you tell me more about how they work?”

“Well, like I said stimulation makes them produce hormones—and different kinds of stimulation produces different cocktails. So, bouncing, rubbing, squeezing, all have different effects.”

“oh wow. Like what?”

“Well, you’ll just have to find out. One word of warning: do not under any circumstance wear a corsette or a sports bra. It’s important not to wear any tight-fighting constrictive clothing.”

“Why? Would that hurt me?”

“No. No. More the other way: you’d have too much fun. It might be dangerous, but only in the sense that a party that gets out of hand could be too dangerous—it is, however, important if you want to keep living a normal life.”

“ok! Ok!” Arianna smiled. Again, her mind strangely skipped over the most important part of the message she had just heard.

“I can try this. It doesn’t have to be forever, does it?”

“Not if you don’t want it to. We can reverse you down next week. But, believe me, you are more likely to come in and ask if we can fill you out even a little bit more. You look great and I’d say stay where you’re at, but lots of girls are aiming bigger than big these days.”

Arianna smiled as her confidence grew. She took a deep breath and arched her back. As she did so, the fabric in her blouse gave away and every single button simultaneously launched in a rapid-fire arc into oblivion.

Her blouse burst open, revealing her newfound glory.

She turned bright red with shock. And rushed to cover her nipples with her hand. But her companion reached forward and grabbed her hand and held them down.

“No. Let me look at you.”

She stared for a long moment. Her eyes seemed to grow wide and round.

Arianna blushed bright

“What is it?” and then she added coquettishly “You know it isn’t polite to stare.”

“It’s you.” Her companion said breathlessly, “I’ve never seen anyone’s transformation fit them so gloriously. You’re like a living, breathing, monument to….”

“To what?” Arianna was almost breathless

“Perfection.”

Suddenly Arianna heard herself moan involuntarily. She looked around in confusion.

“I feel so strange! Is something else…happening?”

Her knees had begun to quiver.

Her companion had stepped close. Very close.

“Do you want something else to happen?” Sarina asked, almost breathless herself.

“I….I….think so.” She nodded seeming small and helpless.

The taller woman drew so close now that their breasts were touching and Arianna felt herself grasp as their skin made contact. The strength in her legs and back seemed to go out and she found herself almost melting to the ground. But the taller woman put her arms around her and embraced her.

They kissed.

Arianna felt all her inhibitions drop as she was ensconced in a matrix of pleasure and forgetfulness. All sense of herself and her former life vanished. She gave herself over entirely to the pleasure of touching and being touched.

….ONE WEEK LATER

Arianna was off work. But the bars were all closed. Some kind of disease was going around town. No one was allowed outside after work. Arianna had no idea what it was about and she didn’t care. All she knew was that the thoughts of the people whose minds she policed had gotten a lot darker in the past few days and it had been a real downer for her. She felt stressed, she needed to blow off steam. She was pissed that the bars were closed.

Arianna was bored and incredibly restless. She texted Sarina. They had been hanging out lately. There weren’t too many young women in New Toronto who could go outside after dark. Sarina wasn’t as young as Arianna, but she was pretty. And now that she had massive jugs, Arianna no longer envied Sarina’s looks. Arianna was pretty confident that she was one of the best looking women in the small city. She was an alpha-female now and beginning to come into her own. With a few months of working the social scene, she would be able to hook up with a guy who could get her a much better job—as a port-authority manager—even though she was five years too young. Maybe she could get a job as a dog-catcher—people hated dogs but only a small number of people were allowed to hunt them. It was a lucrative job. Arianna just wanted to be on top.

Arianna eyed the constricting and slimming bra a rude co-worker had given her. No doubt trying to make some kind of hurtful statement about Arianna’s new breasts.

She remembered what her therapist—and now friend—had said

You’d have too much fun.

She wondered “what could that mean?”

She texted Sarina

“why can’t I wear a tight constricting bra?”

No answer.

She was so bored. She couldn’t stand it.

She slipped one arm through the bra. Then the other. She secured it into place.

She pulled the material tight. Then she grabbed the laces and yanked.

And then her eyes went wide. Her pupils dialated to the size of quarters.

She stared vacantly into space.

Movement was impossible. Thought was impossible.

She stared straight ahead. Then she slowly made sure the bra was securely in place. It was too tight and restricting her breathing. But there was no way she was going to take it off. Not ever.

Intuitively she understood what had happened: She had put on a sport bra. She was a drone now. She would be a drone forever.

Waves of pleasure passed through her body. She felt the rigidity of her stance with erotic delight.

She stared straight ahead, blinking occasionally. Feeling an almost ecstatic sense of heightened awareness of herself and the world around her, but no desire to move or think or do anything.

Finally after a long time, the phone beeped.

She picked it up. Breathing softly into the receiver

“Hello.” She said

“Oh hi, Arianna?” said a feminine voice. It was Sarina, her gene therapist.

“Yes, this is Arianna.” She said in a calm monotone.

“Arianna, you’re a fucking drone, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I put on a sport bra to see what it would be like. And I turned into a drone.” She said

“Do you like it?”

“I love being a drone.”

“Do you want to stay a drone?”

“Absolutely yes. I love being this way. I want to stay this way forever.” She said

The words came out automatically. Without reflection. She barely knew that she said them. And returned to a state of vapid emptiness the moment they were uttered. Her mind was filled with a gentle and pleasant blankness when she tried for the briefest moment to reflect on what she had just said. There was a little of the old Arianna inside her, already overwhelmed by the new neural circuitry that was lacing and wiring itself deep into her neocortex.

“Good. Good. I’m just checking to make sure the programming took hold properly. I’ll come over and we’ll lock you into drone-mode. That way you’ll be trapped as a mindless drone forever, Ok?”

“Sure. I’d like that.” Said Arianna softly. She hung up the phone.

Wait. What did I jussssss…..?

She cocked her head slightly. But the thought was gone. Replaced by a warm and gentle feeling of comfort and satisfaction. She smiled ever so slightly and her head returned to a neutral position. She stood motionless for an hour.

Her taller companion came over.

“Ok. Here is the problem: when your breasts are compressed like that they produce a powerful hypnotic drug. It stupefies you and turns you into a drone. And it’s activating further transformations inside your brain, but those take time to get fully entrenched.”

Arianna nodded,

“but the thing is, if we take the sports bra off, then the glands become uncompressed and they stop producing this hypnotic cocktail. So what I will do is give you some shots and your breasts will produce the hypnotic drug all the time. And then I’ll place this hypnotic vizor on your head. The vizor will scramble your brain and erase your past personality and all your memories. That way there won’t be an. alternative set of neural circuitry to clash with the drone programming. You’ll be all drone all the time.”

Arianna nodded. “this is what I want.” She said with calm confidence, but with her eyes staring blankly into space.

So, her companion gave her the shot.

She felt a flushing in her breasts as the virus went to work on her breasts, modifying her DNA so that her glands would produce the hypnotic cocktail all the time.

Then the companion set the vizor over her eyes. She pressed the on button.

Arianna saw a series of strange swirling shapes and images. She opened her mouth wide.

The words appeared “YOU ARE A DRONE.”

“I am a drone.” She repeated

“YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN A DRONE.”

“I have always been a drone.” She repeated

“YOU CANNOT THINK”

“I cannot think.”

Then there was a bright dinging sound, like a toaster had finished toasting.

Her companion took the visor off.

“how do you feel about being a drone?” asked the companion

The new drone opened its mouth. But no sound came out.

“how do you feel at the prospect of spending the rest of your life cooking and cleaning for me?” asked the companion

The drone opened its mouth but no words came out.

The companion laughed

“You stupid bitch! I told you not to compress those tits! Now you’ll never think again. You’re trapped as a drone!”

She laughed,

The drone that had been Arianna opened its mouth as if to sneeze.

But instead a powerful muscular spasm passed through her lower torso. And hot wet fluid began spurting from her vagina. Some of it splashed on her companion.

The drone that had been Arianna had a look on its face of confidence, serenity, as it stared into space. But the waves of muscular spasms passing through her lower half spoke of the most intense orgasms.

The taller woman shrieked

“oh god! Stop squirting your juices all over me!”

But the drone continued to squirt vaginal liquid at an alarming rate. It coated a section of the carpet.

The drone’s head dropped back and its mouth opened,

“This unit cannot comply with your request! Remaining a drone forever is the first goal of every drone. Pleasure is the final guarantee of compliance. Should this drone be restored to a pre-drone state, it would crave this experience again with such intensity that it would spend the rest of its life pretending to be a drone just to feel a shadow of the pleasure it is now experiencing.”

The spasms continued, but they began to diminish.

The taller woman sneered

“pleasure is good for pigs or dogs! You had some humanity, but now you’re a literal machine. The only things you still have are the ability to feel and a body that looks human.”

She laughed, feeling triumphant

It was her job to turn girls into drones. Long again she had been programmed herself, programmed to be a drone recruiter. She had developed a panoply of tools for luring and tricking women into willfully surrendering their beings and turning into this—this fleshy doll that now stood before her spasming in surrender—this was her greatest pleasure. The pleasure of duping another sentient being into abandoning its sentience and becoming a flesh machine that could feel but not think.

But she reflected that she had been doing her job for years, and it wasn’t so great anymore. Times were changing and it was becoming harder and harder to recruit girls to become drones. People were catching onto the tools that her employer had developed. In order to find new girls to dupe she had to come way out here to the boonies of New Toronto.

Plus, she wasn’t really that good at what she did. Arianna might be her last conquest.

And then she felt a weird itch.

Her eyes bulged as she stared at Arianna. She felt a terrible, strange feeling.

It was envy.

The way Arianna stared and stared. The way Arianna could feel but not think. The way Arianna did not have to worry about losing her edge.

She felt herself squirming. Becoming wet. And craving something.

But what was it?

Without knowing why, she slammed the vizor over her own head.

Quickly opening her vials, she gave herself a shot of the hypnotic drug.

Then she flipped the switch on the vizor.

She watched the swirling shapes

“shit, what the fuck am I doing?” she said

She couldn’t stand it for another second. She couldn’t bear to reflect on what she was doing to herself. So she put the machine into “SPEED MODE: FOR HIGHLY INTELLIGENT SUBJECTS.”

And then the machine produced a series of impossible shapes and shapes and images.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?

HOW CAN I SEE AN IMPOSSIBLE SHAPE?

IF ITS IMPOSSIBLE, THEN IT CAN’T BE SEEN. BUT IF IT CAN’T BE SEEN, THEN I AM NOT SEEING IT, BUT I AM SEEING IT, SO IT ISN’T IMPOSSIBLE, BUT IT IS IMPOSSIBLE, SO I CAN’T BE SEEING IT…”

IF I CAN’T BE SEEING WHAT I’M SEEING THEN I CAN’T BE THINKING AT ALL.”

I CAN’T BE THINKING AT ALL.

I CAN’T THINK.

She removed the vizor.

A smile grew on her face. She had done it. She had turned herself into a drone.

Her eyes grew wide, she felt a mounting pleasure. She put her hands to her breasts and squeezed slightly.

But then she frowned. She shook her head.

No. She could still think.

She blinked. And felt the world spin. She had survived the highest setting of the program. She looked at her hands.

She was high on the stupifying drug, but she had such a powerful mind that she could not be turned by the software. A feeling of despair flooded through. She was doomed to be a failure—a drone recruiter who couldn’t recruit HERSELF.

Then she had an idea.

“Drone! Get on your knees!” she commanded.

The drone dropped to her knees. And then the taller woman removed her own pants. She stood with her naked sex facing the kneeling drone.

“When I finish becoming a drone—you will bury your head in my sex and drink my fluids!”

“yes, master” Arianna the drone intoned

“even if it comes out like a firehose!’

“yes, master” the drone intoned

“And you’ll love it!” she shrieked, desperately.

“Yes, master.”

“You stupid fucking WHORE!” screamed the taller woman “I’ll show you! I’ll show you that even as a FUCKING DRONE you’re still able to be degraded even FURTHER! Only I am capable of this! You’ll be my slave forever—even as a lowly drone, I’ll still have YOU as a still LOWLIER drone!”

“my whole being looks forward to it” said the drone squatting, her eyes blank and her mouth wide open with expectation.

“OH MY GAWD, YOU FUCKING SLUT!” screamed the tall Nordic woman, now going insane with frustration and desire. She did not understand what was happening to her. It did not matter. Soon she wouldn’t be able to understand anything.

She opened up the developer’s suite on her software. She programed it to execute every personality and memory scrambling routine in rapid succession. She overrode the safety settings.”

She activated the device.

“I AM a drone! ALREADY!” she screamed “But, I want to be TRAPPED as a drone! I want to be freed of all my THOUGHTS!”

She saw the impossible shapes again. She studied them intently.

But her thoughts crept back in,

Well, that one is impossible, so it would short circuit my brain. But I see what it’s supposed to do. So it can’t do it.

She felt the whirr of a powerful energy. And then felt a blast of energy. And shen she passed out.

After a long time, she saw herself from above.

There were doctors standing over her. The doctors were talking in a low voice.

“We don’t know what happened to this one. So let’s get a scan of her brain.”

The doctor put a scanning device over her head.

“well here is the problem. She’s not a person at all. Look, she has a big microchip instead of a brain.”

The girl floated over to see the scanner output. Sure enough, the scanner showed a big microchip where her brain should be.

“So….. she really IS a robot?” said the other doctor

“Yeah, that’s really weird.”

“Well, what do we do?”

“Let’s just remove the microchip and ship the model back to the factory without any CPU.”

The girl stared.

“What?” she screamed “Don’t take out my microchip! It’s not JUST my brain! It’s ME!”

But they did. She saw them remove it.

And then there was a flash.

She looked down at her body.

There was some mistake. She was back in her body.

But she remembered the doctors removing the microchip which was the core of her being.

Somehow, her spirit was still in her body. But the body had no brain or microchip at all. It had all been removed.

“THEY TOOK OUT MY BRAIN, WHICH WAS JUST A MICROCHIP....BUT I’M STILL IN MY BODY. IF I HAVE NO MICROCHIP AND NO BRAIN BUT I’M STILL IN MY BODY, THEN I AM JUST A BODY. BUT IF I’M JUST A BODY THEN I HAVE NO BRAIN AND IF I HAVE NO BRAIN….”

“…THEN I CAN’T THINK.”

And then she saw the doctors again.

“I called HQ and they said to smash the microchip with a hammer”

“WHAT??? NOOO!” she screamed wordlessly for her mouth did not move.

With incredibly rapidity, the second doctor produced a hammer and smashed the microchip to pieces.

“MY BRAIN IS GONE FOREVER. I CAN’T THINK. I AM JUST A BODY.”

Suddenly all the tension evaporated. And she relaxed. She could not be removed from her body. Apparently, she WAS her body. She had always mistakenly believed she was a thinking mind attached to a fleshy form—like a ghost in a machine—but apparently she had always just been the fleshy form. The microchip that had served as her brain had just been a machine that had been moving her around and creating the illusion of thought.

“I AM MERE FLESH. MERE FLESH CANNOT THINK.”

Suddenly she was back in the room with Arianna—the drone—it had all been a dream created by the device. But she didn’t understand that. She had been duped by the program into believing something that was totally impossible. But now that the paradox was lodged firmly inside her brain it could do its job and unravel the neural circuity that had been her personality.

It was working fast now as she contemplated the impossibility of her situation.

“I’M A PERFECT DOLL! I NEVER WAS A PERSON. I WAS MADE JUST A FLESH DOLL. I DON’T EVEN HAVE A MICROCHIP FOR A BRAIN. MY SKULL IS LITERALLY AN EMPTY SPACE. “

The smile on her face grew. Her eyes began to glaze over.

“FLESH CANNOT THINK. IT CAN ONLY FEEL.”

Her eyes became blanker. A look of serene, vapid contentment began to harden on her face like quick-dry cement.

“I CAN’T THINK BECAUSE I AM FLESH”

She felt herself snuggling into a serenely content state. Her face became a mask of blank calm.

She felt waves of comfort rushing through her body.

“I AM JUST FLESH” she thought dreamily

“MINDLESS FLESH FOREVER” she shivered as a tension began building in her groin

“MINDLESS FL—”

The thought cut itself off in mid-sentence. She was confronted with the total blankness of her own mind. She opened her mouth in surprise, briefly shattering the mask of vapidity. Part of her wanted to ask some kind of question, but it was a question she would never form because at that moment her eyes went totally blank. A look of contented vapidity colonized her face. She felt her whole body convulse. And then her vagina began to spasm and squirt fluid as she climaxed. Her tiny clitoris thumped like a ticking metronome on speed.

She spasmed and squirted for longer than Arianna had. Arianna plunged her face into her companion’s sex with her mouth wide. She gulped down the fluid as though it were essential to saving her life.

As wonderful as it was for both parties, eventually it was over.

Sarina stared straight ahead. She would be a drone forever now. Her temporary insanity had yielded to total subservience.

The two drones stood silently for quite awhile, before the phone rang.

Arianna answered it.

“Hello, drones. A van will come to pick you up and take you to a drone facility in 20 minutes. Please clean yourself and pack up all your clothes and belongings and be ready to go. You will never return ever again because you are drones. When you finish packing, soak the apartment in gasoline, lighter fluid, or whatever you have around and then set it on fire. The fire will provide cover for your disappearance.”

The girls cleaned, packed, and then set the apartment on fire. They threw all their records into the fire. At no point did they question what they were doing. At no point did they have any doubts or second thoughts. At no point did they hesitate or even falter. Their movements were perfectly smooth and graceful. They enjoyed the blessedness of being free from all volitional thought.

Just as the flames began to mount, the van arrived.

Without speaking the girls calmly walked to the van and got in the back.

The girls were transported to Saudi Arabia where they were given burqas and blended into a drone/submissive sex harem for a powerful sheik.

They lived that way for 15 years and each gave birth to five children who were raised by sentient members of the sheik’s entourage. These were women whose will and personalities had been shaped in various ways, but had been intentionally crafted to retain the mental skills needed to raise children. Arianna and Sarina were human dolls, because the sheik enjoyed the thought of impregnating human dolls. He had selected Arianna for her beauty, and Sarina she had good genes. It had taken several years to completely break down the taller woman. That was fine to the sheik. She was a high-quality specimen and turning her into a drone was worth the wait. He rushed to impregnate them the day they were delivered to his palace in Saudi Arabia.

When the drones turned 35, the sheik dismissed them from his service. They were too old now to bear him additional children and he had become interested in newly recruited drones. The women were given very simple personalities, and a few personal interests. They were then put on a plane and sent to Russia. In Russia they were taken to a rural village in Siberia. There they became somewhat unremarkable, yet strikingly beautiful, immigrant women working in the agricultural sector. They were given a generous stipend so that they had access to a higher standard of living than the average Russian, but never told who was providing that stipend. Each was programed to spend hours each night dutifully studying the Russian language and practicing relentlessly, almost compulsively.

By the time they were 40, the girls were fully fluent in Russian and had established simple lives. They both found Russian husbands who put up with their eccentric refusal to live apart, didn’t smoke or drink alcohol to excess, and didn’t ask too many questions about their wives’ past. Their husbands believed that their wives were in their late-20s because of their incredible beauty, including excellent tone skin and a certain youthful disposition.

By the time they turned 45, they were indistinguishable from their Russian peers. They had a handful of friends, but remained remarkably simple, unassuming, resilient and happy women.

Their husbands both died young, because although these women were very simple, they were so good at sex that they drove their men wild. Their men spent all their free time and energy working to please their wives and having marathon sex sessions. Eventually all the work and sex led them to die, exhausted but happy.

When their husbands died, the two women were barely affected at all. Two months after the second husband died, both women began sleeping in the same bed. The second night of sleeping in the same bed they wordlessly initiated a marathon sex session that lasted six hours. The marathon sex session ended with each woman wrapping her thighs tightly around the other’s head and then spasming and pumping her vaginal fluids into the other woman’s mouth. When they did this, they knew intuitively sensed that they were recreating something from their own forgotten past, but neither ever fully grasped the significance of it.

For the rest of their lives, they lived simple unassuming public lives while privately having insanely wild and raunchy sex with each other. They never felt the need to talk about their relationship or whether they were lesbians. They had good friends and enjoyed being attractive, and extremely boring women. They were, after all, repurposed drones who had been given fake personalities. Both of them knew, at some deep level, that they were essentially drones. Drones disguised as Russian peasant women.

Long ago their bodies had been owned by troubled, unhappy, young women. Those women had both irreversibly programed themselves to be drones. It was the best decision they had ever made. It had been the highlight of their lives, had improved their own lot in the world, and had brought a number of very healthy and talented children into a world that was finally beginning to get back on its feet.