The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Raven hoisted herself onto the fire escape and began her climb towards the roof of Club Argon. For now she banished thoughts of “Minnie” from her mind. She couldn’t be small, timid Minnie. She had to be the Raven. She had to be agile, quiet, and smooth. Raven moved quickly but deliberately, trying to avoid making noise or shaking the fire escape in a way that would do the same. Her active camouflage system didn’t hamper noise from the Raven or noise caused in her surroundings. It was the one weakness the harness had. But it was one Raven had been practicing at mitigating.

Raven gracefully scaled the ladders and stairs of the fire escape. She went up level after level. No signs of cameras or monitoring equipment had been caught by her radar. It was a good start to the night. Raven eventually scrambled her way to the top of the fire escape. This was as much of a “roof” as Argon had other than the dome, which was still dark for now. The vigilante went low in case the dome turned on, and prowled instead towards a tube sticking out of the room. The tube would lead to the building’s ventilation system—her ticket inside. Once she was inside, though, the Raven would have to improvise.

The Raven clambered into the vent. For a while she was crawling in darkness, wary of the unavoidable noise she was making. The Raven moved as lightly as she could. But the metal vent couldn’t not bang about. After a while of crawling, the Raven spotted some light coming from up ahead. The air vent opened up into a storage room. Raven took the chance to slip out and onto the various crates and containers laying around. She only lingered long enough to check her power meter and her electronics radar. No cameras in this room. And her harness was still at 90%. She was making good time. After reorienting herself, the Raven quickly turned the doorknob and slipped into a utility hallway. She followed the lights and the sounds of thumping music towards the main area.

The Raven almost froze as she entered the nightclub proper. Minnie had never been in a nightclub, so the experience alone was a shocking one for her. It was like an assault via light and sound. Strobing starbursts and stage lights cut intricate patterns in the air. And the sound of glassy techno music was almost deafening. And then there were the people. People everywhere. The Raven had dropped into the upper level intended for VIP’s, so she wasn’t crowded in like the bottom floor. But there were still people everywhere. Well-dressed men and women lounging around tables. Toasting at bars. Dancing on the smaller dance floors provided.

Raven snapped out of her stupor just in time to avoid a couple that nearly plowed right into her. She backed up against the wall. But a second look at the scene in front of the Raven brought her attention to something she had missed in her first analysis.

The babes.

For the first time, the Raven noticed the women who weren’t like the ladies here to party. They were scantily clad—all strings and tiny triangles—and all in the same color scheme. Neon green and neon pink, the signature colors of Club Argon. Even a sheltered girl like Minnie knew that clubs hired babes to bring in customers. But something struck her as off about these women. Something that compelled her to draw closer. The Raven lurked behind a crowd gathered around one dancing on a pole in the middle of a lounging area. Careful to stand out of the way, the Raven took her in.

The woman was a redhead, with alabaster-pale skin adorned with cute freckles. But beyond that she was a total bombshell. Big boobs. Wide hips. A round butt. Full thighs. She was a certain ideal of perfection. And that perfection was on full display, enhanced by a sheen of sweat. The woman’s only real garments were a pink and green thong and matching heels. Only pasties kept her nearly street legal. But the Raven’s attention was drawn to her face. The big, wide smile she kept plastered on. Her glassy eyes. And her unnaturally-colored irises—pink and green, just like everything else. Her fiery red hair was the only part of her free from the color scheme, flowing wildly behind her as she danced. Her footing was absolute. No mistakes. No fumbles. She just kept going.

The Raven would have barely noticed the woman if she was alone. But a closer look had confirmed the heroine’s suspicions. It wasn’t that Argon had one bombshell. It was that they were all bombshells. Every green-and-pink dancer she saw had ample curves. Every dancer had that same, wide, empty smile. And every single one had the same neon-pink and neon-green irises. Plenty of companies had brands. Some even dabbled in advanced cosmetic surgery like alterations to eye color. But those procedures took time, and so did healing. For Argon to have a whole fleet of these babes so soon since it opened was off. Something was wrong here.

The Raven left the group gathered around the dancer and towards the bar. She checked her power level again. 80%. Still good. She had spotted a patron talking to one of the Argon babes and wanted to hear what the woman sounded like. The Raven dodged and weaved through a few customers on the way. People would come and go from the bar, and the Raven wasn’t sure how she would take up a post to eavesdrop without getting bumped into. She ultimately decided to stand to the side of the bar and overhear what she could.

As she approached the bar, she got a better look at the babe. It went without saying that she was a knockout with an hourglass figure. This one had dark, tan skin and long, black hair shot with green and pink highlights. All she wore was a slingshot bikini that ran from her shoulders down to her pelvis and back up her backside via a single string. There must have been a bit of variation in the girls’ builds, as this one seemed a bit more bottom-heavy than the redhead. But that wide smile. Those glassy, colorful eyes. They were both clearly Argon babes.

The man standing sitting next to her was an older gentleman with graying hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. He wore a more classic suit and tie, though the small, glass visor covering one eye conveyed to the club he was no old man or luddite. The Raven had to hold herself back from coughing at the mixture of the woman’s cinnamon perfume and the man’s synthetic cologne.

Equally repulsive was the conversation the two were having.

“So, what is it you like in a man?” the businessman asked. The Raven rolled her eyes. She knew the answer would come out to some rough approximation of “guys like him.”

“Hmmmmm,” the woman said, putting a manicured finger to her lips. “I eh…” the Raven turned her attention more to the woman. “I eh like men who is…how you say…ma-ture.” That was one hell of an accent. Somewhere South or Central American. “Zorro platadeado!” she said, reaching out to stroke the man’s beard. “Silver fox! Si?”

“Is that right?” the man asked, his grin widening. “You must not meet a lot of nice, mature men here. All these kids around.”

The woman just giggled. “Oh no señor,” she cooed. “None like handsome meester Cartwright.” Raven made a note to run a check on Cartwright to see if he was anyone important. “Meester Cartwright es me favorita man in all of Argon!”

“Well I’m flattered, sweetheart,” Cartwright said. “You know…we could get out of here after your shift, if you wanted to make a bit more money.” The Raven held back a sigh. Men. But the response surprised her.

“Tori so sorry, señor Cartwright,” Tori replied. “But Tori es no allowed to leave Argon. She faithful to club.”

Tori…why was that name ringing alarm bells?

“Well you have to go home sometime, don’t you?” Cartwright asked. Tori shook her head and answered almost proudly.

“Argon girls stay at Argon,” she said. “Eat at Argon. Sleep at Argon.” She leaned in. “But also have fun at Argon. Meester Cartwright comes to Tori’s room and…” she whispered something Raven couldn’t overhear. But she was sure she knew what the woman was offering. And if Cartwright had any questions or concerns, they were dispelled.

“Far be it from me to get you in trouble with your boss, Tori,” Cartwright said. That name…something was up with that name. He offered a hand for the club bimbo to stand with him. “Lead the way, sweetheart.” Tori took the hand and began to lead Cartwright across the VIP area and towards a door marked “Restricted.” The Raven scurried after them, trying not to pay too much attention to Tori’s enormous, brown booty jiggling in front of her. The bimbo—she obviously wasn’t all that bright—leaned into an ocular reader. And after a quick scan of Tori’s eye, Raven heard a lock unlatching. Tori opened it wide and led Cartwright inside. As the door began to close behind him, the Raven checked her harness charge again. 70%. She’d need to start leaving around 30%. Good to know. At the last possible moment she wedged her foot into the door and slipped into the opening. And all the while she was trying to figure out why that name—Tori—was stuck in her head.