The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Mayor Hennessey sat ramrod-straight at his desk, hands clenched together. A glass of bicarbonate fizzed on the desktop. It had been that kind of week.

First there had been the usual twaddle from the City Council. Then there’d been the meeting with that jerk Randle. The man had more money than God, and if the stories were true, he was considering running for mayor himself next time. But he was a big contributor to the Party, so blowing him off wouldn’t have been smart. If he didn’t run, Hennessey would need his backing for his own re-election effort. Then there had been the flap over his ex-wife, who thought she was an actress; she’d decided to appear in a cheesy “alternative theater” production, in a nude role.

Now, apparently, Randle had persuaded his secretary to arrange for him to meet with another potential campaign donor, some woman he’d never heard of—Eve Humble? Yes, that was the name.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered. He hadn’t fought his way up the ranks in the police department, then run for mayor, just to spend all his time playing political gamers once he was finally in a position to get things done.

He sighed. “Things would be so much easier if this city were a dictatorship—as long as I was the dictator.” It was a fantasy to which he kept returning in the privacy of his office.

“Ahem,” a rich female voice said. Startled and embarrassed, Hennessey looked up.

“Was I interrupting something?” the voice’s owner said, amusement bubbling in her tone and expression. “Your secretary let me in, but I can come back later if you’d prefer.”

Hennessey’s jaw dropped. Standing there was the most unbelievable apparition: a gorgeous giantess, several inches over six feet, with a perfect face, an impossible rack topping a torso that tapered to a tiny waist before flaring again to lush hips, and long, smoothly-muscled legs that went on almost forever before flowing into tiny feet squeezed into neat, high-heeled pumps which added even more to her stature. He had to force himself to notice she was wearing a business-style pantsuit; her incredible proportions made it look less like ordinary clothing than like something to be peeled away piece by piece to the thumping beat of music.

“N-no,” he finally wheezed. “Don’t go. Please.” He waved a hand at the chair next to his desk. “Please, sit. Can—can I get you something? Anything?”

The apparition smiled. “Coffee, please. If you’ll have some, too. I find it . . . stimulating.” She arched her back, causing her monstrous breasts to strain at the V-neck of her cream-colored blouse.

Hennessey squealed. Sitting in his chair, he came. He couldn’t help it; he gushed powerfully, then slumped, gasping.

Perfecta smiled sweetly. “Are you all right, sir?” She knew perfectly well what had just happened. She’d begun manipulating him the moment she’d entered the room. By now he was a quivering mass of reflex and sensation. That was no guess; her implants gave her feedback when she used them on a human. She could feel his arousal, feel his desire and pleasure, feeding her own. Only his actual thoughts were closed to her.

“I—I’m sorry, Ms. Humble.” Hennessey was still fighting for control. “I mean, no—I mean, yes, I’m fine.” He knew he wouldn’t dare stand up, at least for a while. What was wrong with him? Yes, this Eve Humble was a real sex bomb, but he’d never had a woman affect him like this!

“I’m so glad,” purred “Eve.” Gently, she reminded the mayor, “Coffee?”

“Oh—oh, yes,” fumbled Hennessey. “Of course.” Pressing the intercom button on his desk phone, he relayed the drink order to his secretary, concluding: “After you bring in the coffee, Jackie, I’m not to be disturbed. Hold my calls.” He stole another look at his guest’s cleavage and stifled a groan.

While the two of them waited, Perfecta worked on the mayor. Now that he’d been brought to orgasm, he was relaxed, his natural wariness suppressed as he floated in the afterglow. And the gynoid knew how to keep him that way: she kept talking—“making small talk,” the natural-born called it—while gently stroking his brain’s primitive parts with her power. As she watched, Hennessey’s eyes fastened helplessly on her bosom and gradually glazed over.

At last the mayor’s underling entered, pushing a wheeled cart a tray holding two cups and a ceramic pot from which an enticing odor wafted. Perfecta had learned to enjoy more human pleasures than just sex, and she was especially fond of coffee.

Jackie parked the cart in front of the desk. Glancing briefly at Hennessey, then at Perfecta, she sniffed, wrinkling her nose.

Perfecta laughed silently; she suspected the other female had smelled the evidence of what had happened to her boss. She reached out playfully and tweaked the woman’s brain. Jackie gasped and stumbled, then hurried out of the room, shutting the door hard behind her.

There, the gynoid thought smugly. That ought to give her something else to think about for a little while.

The cups had already been filled. There were sugar packets and a small container of cream beside the pot. Perfecta daintily poured two packets and some cream into one cup and took it, sipping its contents and savoring the taste and aroma. Mayor Hennessey took the other cup and gulped it down. His hands were trembling as he set the cup back down.

“Uh,” he said at length, plainly fighting to put words together. “Um. What . . . what did you want to talk about?”

Perfecta smiled blindingly at her prey. Reaching deep into her cleavage, she pulled out the small mirror-of-Venus pin she’d tucked away there. She held it up. “Do you recognize this, Mayor Hennessey?”

Hennessey fought to focus. She wanted him to, so it had to be important. Finally it registered. “I’ve seen that before.”

“Yes, Edward—Teddy; I can call you Teddy, can’t I?” Hennessey nodded, and Perfecta went on: “Do you remember where you’ve seen it?” She prodded her prey with her power.

The mayor gulped, feeling the blood rush away from his head again to parts lower down. “Y-yeah,” he answered. “The—what the hell were they called?—the Perfectionists, that was it, that was their thing. Their, nnh!, symbol.”

“That’s right, Teddy,” the gynoid cooed. “And do you remember their leader? Do you remember”—she leaned closer—“me?”

“Y-you?” It came out in a squeak. “But that—that’s impossible. Those sex maniacs were led by some crazy stripper. She called herself—”

“Perfecta,” the gynoid finished for him. She inhaled deeply, deeply, and her blouse opened wider, two buttons popping off the overstrained fabric covering her massive mammaries. “My name was, and is, Perfecta. I chose to call myself Eve Humble for this meeting Mr. Randle was kind enough to help me set up”—as if he’d had a choice—“to make things easier.” She pouted prettily. “I figured that if I used my real name, you might not agree to see me.” And, of course, it had amused her to borrow her creator’s name.

“But, but,” the mayor sputtered, “she’s—you’re dead! Nobody could’ve survived that! Nobody . . . human.”

Perfecta laughed and stroked his cheek. By reflex, he turned his head and licked her hand. “Silly man,” she answered, “I’m so much more than human.” Emphasizing her words, she used her other hand to unbutton the remaining buttons of her blouse, then slid out of it and the open jacket over it in a single supple motion. “Can any ordinary woman match my beauty?” She ran her hands under her huge hooters, lifting them to project even more than they already did. “Can any ordinary woman match . . . these?” “N-no,” Hennessey panted. “Oh, God, no. You’re so beautiful. So magnificent. So—so—!”

“Perfect?” the android female finished for him. Invisible waves of stimulation filled the air between them, washing through the mayor’s brain, melting his mind to mush, drowning him deeper and deeper in an ocean of pleasure and desperate desire. She carefully kept him just short of another climax, grasping his hands in hers to keep him from completing the job himself.

“Perfect,” babbled Hennessey. “Perfect, perfect, perfect—perfect woman, perfect pleasure, everything’s . . . perfect.” His head went back and his eyes rolled up in their sockets. “Perfect, ohhh Godddd!“

“That’s right,” Perfecta said. “Everything’s perfect. Would you like to know how everything can be perfect forever?”

“Yes! Yes!“ Hennessey nearly screamed. “Please! Tell me!”

“It’s very simple,” answered the ravishing redhead. “All you have to is obey me. Just follow my orders, do as I say, believe whatever I tell you, and everything will be perfect. Obey Perfecta, believe Perfecta, and you can feel the way you’re feeling right now. And you want that, don’t you, Teddy? You want it, you need it, you’ll do anything for it, isn’t that right?”

“Yes! YES!“ Hennessey howled. “I’ll, I’ll do anything!“

“Of course you will, Teddy dear.” Perfecta slithered from her seat and straddled Hennessey in his chair, easily pushing his desk forward with one hand to make more room. The glass of bicarb fell off, its contents staining the carpet where it landed. “And can you guess what I want you to do now?”

Hennessey could. He grabbed at her, running his hands over the fantastic breasts Dr. Humble had engineered for his fantasy woman before burying his face in the cleft between them. His hands wandered down to pull insistently at Perfecta’s suit pants. At the same time, the gynoid unfastened the mayor’s trousers and eased them down, slithering atop him to allow both his and her pants to slide down freely. She wasn’t wearing any underwear, of course, but Hennessey was; it followed his trousers in short order. Then they thrust against each other, natural human flesh against glorious synthetic.

Perfecta enjoyed it immensely, despite having to restrain herself to avoid damaging her new toy. They thrashed together in Hennessey’s big chair, then sank to the piled carpet and continued. Perfecta was relentless, insatiable; she had years of deprivation to make up for. Her powers pulsed through the puppet of flesh Hennessey had become, driving him to a peak of performance he’d never experienced before. His heart thundered in his ears, louder, louder!

Reluctantly, Perfecta slowed their rhythm, gradually easing off until the two of them lay quietly on the mayor’s office floor. She examined the stupefied Hennessey, satisfying herself that he hadn’t gone into the sort of coma her maker had, so long ago, and hadn’t been hurt in any other way. It had been a constant struggle, in the old days, not to exceed the merely human stamina of her sexual steeds.

“More,” Hennessey moaned deliriously. “More, more, please, more. . . .”

Perfecta touched a finger to his lips. “No, dear Teddy.” At his answering whimper she went on, “Not now. We need to get dressed now. Later, if you’re a good boy and obey all Perfecta’s commands, maybe we can do this again.”

“I-I’ll be good,” Hennessey promised. He meant it with every fiber of his being. “I’ll do anything. Obey anything.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will, Teddy dear.” Perfecta smiled as she got to her feet and helped the groggy Mayor Hennessey up. She got both of them dressed and seated Hennessey in his chair again. Standing over him, she raised his chin with one forefinger until he was again looking into her eyes.

“Teddy,” she said, “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything,” he whispered. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

“You mustn’t tell anyone what we’ve done here, Teddy,” she directed. “you mustn’t let anyone know that I’m back—that Perfecta has returned.”

“N-no,” stammered Hennessey, “no, of course not. I won’t.”

“It would be very bad if people knew too soon, before I’m ready, Teddy.” Perfecta giggled. “If that happened, I might have to go away again, and then we might never see each other. And you don’t want that to happen, do you, honey?”

“No,” the city’s highest elected official sobbed weakly. “No, please.”

Perfecta leaned over and brushed Hennessey’s eyes with her bosom. At the same time, she adjusted her power, ceasing her stimulation of his sexual desire and moderating her manipulation of his brain’s pleasure centers.

The helpless male in her thrall responded immediately. His weeping stopped and he relaxed, sighing and closing his eyes. His head drooped forward onto Perfecta’s outthrust chest; his lips pressed against the bare flesh revealed by the ruptured neckline of her blouse, and he stayed there, drooling slightly.

“That’s all right,” the artificial woman soothed. “It’s all right. Just obey me, do as I say, think what I tell you to think, and I won’t have to go away. It’s all right.” As she spoke, she stroked Hennessey’s head gently.

Eventually he stirred and sat up. With an obvious effort, he opened his eyes and focused. Looking down on her newest conquest, Perfecta smiled triumphantly and asked, “There now—aren’t you glad I came back?”

“Oh, yes, Perfecta,” Hennessey gushed. “So glad.”

A shadow came into his eyes. “You’re not angry at me, are you, for what happened before? I’m so sorry—I didn’t know—I didn’t understand—!“ His contented expression began to give way; it looked as if he might cry again.

Before he could, Perfecta reassured him: “It’s all right, Teddy sweetie. I’m not mad. Your Perfecta understands. All that matters is that you do what I tell you to from now on. And you’ll do that, won’t you, honey?”

Speechless with gratitude, Edward Hennessey bobbed his head eagerly.

Perfecta allowed herself a moment’s gloating. She’d told Hennessey she wasn’t angry at him for his involvement in the attack that had nearly destroyed her, that had trapped her in infirmity for so long. It was, of course, a lie. But she had gotten her revenge at last. The former police official who had been her deadly enemy was now her devoted servant and wracked with grief at having ever been anything else.

It was almost as satisfying as sex.

There was one more thing she meant to do with Hennessey before she left. She stepped away from the mayor’s desk, toward the door, then turned and faced him.

“Teddy,” she said, “you love me, don’t you? In fact, you worship me.”

“Yes, Perfecta,” agreed Hennessey. “It’s true. I love you. I worship you!”

“Then worship me,” she commanded, “right here and now. Worship me on your knees, Teddy.”

The hard-boiled ex-police commissioner rose from his seat, moved toward his gorgeous goddess and dropped to his knees before her, raising his clasped hands prayerfully and looking up, adoration in his eyes.

Perfecta extended one foot and commanded, “Kiss my toe, Teddy. Kiss my toe and feel my divine pleasure.”

Mayor Hennessey bent his head, caressing the gynoid’s foot with his lips. As he made contact, she hit him with a full-intensity burst of her implants’ power. Hennessey squealed, shuddered, and came again.

Perfecta drew back her foot and suggested, “Now just stay right there, Teddy, and bask in the feeling you know only I can give you.”

Hennessey obeyed, holding position with his rump elevated and his head bent down so that his lips were mere inches from the floor. Aftershocks of ecstasy circulated through him, driving everything else from his mind. He never even noticed as the gynoid left his office.

It was several minutes before he became aware of his surroundings again. When he did, the mayor got to his feet, surveyed himself, and then went to the closet along one wall for a fresh set of underwear and trousers. It was embarrassing that he needed them, but—he sighed—his divine Perfecta was worth it.

It was a very smug female android who returned to her headquarters. She had dreamed for years of getting even with those responsible for harming her and thwarting her plans. Now, finally, she was bringing that dream to life.

And she was having fun doing it, too. Her titillation of Mayor Hennessey had drawn on human sexual games she had learned about over time, games that could bring enjoyment to both partners. And Perfecta had enjoyed playing with “Teddy.”

Perfecta recognized that both her drive for revenge and her toying with Hennessey showed her to have more of a human nature than she liked to admit. But after all, she had been patterned on humanity; her artificial body had been grown from synthesized human DNA, with only minor modifications. Most of her superhuman traits came from her implants, as she’d been painfully reminded after most of those implants had been ruined in the Cathedral fire. It was only natural that her personality should reflect that, especially after years of living among humans.

She shook her head impatiently, tossing waves of red hair about as if her head were wreathed in soft flame. None of that mattered. What was important was that she was satisfying herself—and that she was moving her larger plans forward. Clarissa Trager had brought fresh wealth and corporate influence under her control, and with Mayor Hennessey at her feet, she had now had direct access to political power. There was more to be done, of course—much more—but it was a good beginning.

Perfecta threw back her head and laughed. Yes, a very good beginning!

She seated herself at one of the laboratory’s several control stations and called up a view of the gestation chamber. Her implants allowed her to link to the computer system controlling the chamber’s row of maturation capsules. She scanned the instrument readings coming from the fluid-filled tubes.

After a few seconds, she nodded in approval. All of the next-generation gynoids were coming along perfectly. The oldest were nearly ready for activation.

She turned her attention to the programming matrices. Just as each gynoid was to be physically unique, making it easier for them to insinuate themselves into human society than would have been true for an army of identical Perfectas, each would have her own personality. All of them, however, would be programmed to obey her without question.

It had taken years to design the programs to make this possible—but she had had the time, the knowledge of her own maker’s secrets, and a small cadre of loyal technicians among her remaining followers. Now the matrices were ready, awaiting only the completion of the new gynoids’ physical growth.

Perfecta called up another display and scrolled through it for the image she wanted. When Mayor Hennessey’s face looked back at her from the screen directly in front of her seat, she grinned wickedly and concentrated. A thick red X appeared across the politician’s picture. One down, she thought triumphantly. Another silent mental effort, and a succession of other faces flitted past on the screen. Now, who’ll be next?