The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

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It’s been a long time since I had any inclination to write. Well, it finally happened, albeit with some struggle. Thank you to those of you who’ve encouraged me to continue over time – notably Sharon, Iago, flibinite, Eye of Serpent, Adamant Phoenix and sadly, the late sara castle, who was invariably kind and encouraging in my darkest times, even as she went through hers.

Please do not read if you’re under 18 years old or offended by depictions of graphic sex, mind control, lesbians, or whatever else might offend you about writing out fantasies.

©2012 by Sara H. Please do not post elsewhere without the author’s permission.

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Part One

“... and that’s thanks to the combined algorithm matrix we tried. At any rate, I’m pretty sure we can have a working prototype in... hey, anyone home?”

April Furlong brought her thoughts back to her office and to Meghan Wheatley, the Research Lead she’d hand-picked straight out of grad school. “Sorry, Meg, I’ve just got a lot on my mind today. Something happened that’s really distracting. Now – you were saying about the damping field?”

“It can wait,” said Meg. “Distracting, my ass. You look really, really pissed. Did I do something to upset you?”

“No, it’s not you. I just found out something that I’m not happy about. I’ll get over it.”

“Okay.” Meg knew better than to press her boss on things she didn’t want to discuss. She did wish April would let her in a little more, but she shrugged and continued. “So, the damping field. I think we’ve found a way to make it finite and small, so that like always, whoever uses the activator isn’t affected by the God Wave, but now anyone else will be – assuming they’re not using a damping field, too. Then again,” she added with a sly smile, “you can’t have a damping field without knowing how the God Wave works, much less that it exists.”

“Okay, show me the details, then,” April responded. She might be upset, but she was excited, too. If Meg was right, the team had just overcome a major hurdle in the Turner project. She wasn’t completely comfortable with Meg’s lack of ethical conflict about what they were creating, but not by too much. Besides, this advance would mean more funding, including raises all the way around, and the assurance of even more creative research.

It was funny – April never thought this was where she’d be when she imagined her life. She was as surprised as anyone that she worked for the government, even five years on. Her academic career had been brilliant by most standards, and her research fruitful, but when she was approached for her current position of Director of R&D for Gramm National Laboratories, she felt like she had to jump at the chance. She was offered facilities for both classified and personal projects, and she was well aware that opportunities of this magnitude came less than once in a blue moon – for most, never at all.

The salary and perks she’d been given were more than commensurate with her doctoral degrees and experience, but the personal price she’d paid was high. She had been – and continued to be – denied contact with any friends, acquaintances and even family who didn’t pass covert background checks to which they’d been subjected when she was recruited. For April, the list included pretty much everyone she knew up to that point. Even the few people that passed were a problem, because they all interacted socially with the ones who had failed.

That was a long-dead issue, though, at least on the surface. The event that was now causing her to review her career decisions didn’t have to do with the personal sacrifices she’d made. Those had come with full knowledge, and that was that. Her anger was caused by her discovery that some of her post-doctoral work had been co-opted by another government agency for applications she’d never intended. Rage and guilt, mixed with a sense of violation, were growing inside of her. Resolution over her earlier choices, while intact, could not compete with the more basic emotions she was feeling at this moment.

The now-stolen Synapse Filament, or SynFil as they renamed it in typical governmental fashion, was designed to help treat or even cure certain mental disorders, with possibilities stretching from paranoid schizophrenia to autism. In truth, the uses might be endless, but using it to make a more effective spy or soldier had not been her intent when she began that particular line of research. She breathed righteous and moral indignation.

Over the next two weeks, she did a little co-opting herself, and pored over the newer research as she received it. It turned out that some small advances had been made, and human trials had even been undertaken. These had proven the filament technology relatively safe, although not as effective as had been hoped. “Idiots,” she thought as she analyzed the compiled data. “The new attenuation filter they stole from Simon Technologies suppressed the Mallory Effect completely, and that’s the flipping key to full synaptic integration.”

Her intellectual disgust gave way to resolution, and once she’d reflected with what she considered due diligence, she decided to move her residence and equip her newer, larger home with what she needed to continue her personal research on the filament with more independence. If someone else wanted to corrupt her intentions, then she would do her own development for the benefit of those whose need had inspired her in the first place, and do it on her own terms.

Over the seven months that followed, she put aside any misgivings, adjusted her schedule for work and personal projects, and her life settled into a new normalcy that resembled very nearly the life she’d been living for the last few years. The only real difference was that instead of working on personal research overnight at GNL, she was working in her own lab at home. It created longer hours at work for government projects, but she didn’t mind, and neither did her management at GNL – in fact, they were pleased that there was less chance of an accidental security breach.

Now she held the synapse filament in her hand, at least figuratively. It was under the magnifier in a sterile container, but it was there, activated, and the computers she’d amassed were testing the nanocircuitry for the two-hundred-forty-seventh time. She was being anal and she knew it. In truth, it was ready to be loaded into the delivery device.

With a loud exhale she sighed, frustrated. She was ready to move forward, but there was just no subject available for a trial. She’d known this time would come, and had yet to find a solution. Finding a volunteer would be risky at best due to her security clearances and besides, there was some chance that the procedure was dangerous. Implanting it in herself, while possible, was completely out of the question. There was no way she could make objective observations using herself as a guinea pig.

But – it occurred to her that she didn’t need to make objective observations, at least not immediately. She could record the computer readings and use physical recording devices for later observations of herself, and set the program to disable the filament without her intervention in case something went wrong. It was outrageous and decidedly less scientific, but it was the only option she could consider without revealing what she’d accomplished, and she wasn’t about to do that.

She would have to wait until she had time off work for at least four days, but she could wait. She could be patient. In the world of Research and Development, patience was more than a virtue. It was a necessity.

She had no idea it would take almost twelve more weeks.

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The control armature was not uncomfortable outside of the fact that it was bulky and awkward with the injector attached. It surrounded April’s head in a lattice, with a more substantial immobilizing module at the back, under the base of her skull, where the thin, short filament would be inserted and sent travelling through her brain to its resting place inside. Nearly microscopic in width, the filament was not only strong but sophisticated – it would avoid neural activity on its course to its landing position. From that point it would fan out much like a snowflake crystallized, lengthening and spreading out, creating new synapses and pathways.

Primary connections would be complete in just over an hour, and it could only be adjusted or deactivated completely during the first forty-eight, but it could never be removed. April wasn’t worried. She’d be disabling it in less than twenty-four hours, and the computer was programmed to do so after that point as a fail-safe measure.

She gave herself a 15 mg injection of Diazepam and smiled as it relaxed her body and her adrenalin-laced jitters melted away. Her hands stopped shaking, and she took in the now-or-never moment with the amused indifference the drug created. Remembering to breathe, she started the countdown on her computer – sixty seconds – and lay face down on a padded bench she’d brought in for the procedure. In her left hand she held onto the simple cylinder with a red button that would abort the test if anything unexpected took place.

There was a sharp but bearable sting at the back of her head near the bottom of her skull as the filament was inserted. It lasted about twenty seconds and then, nothing. With care, she disentangled herself from the injector, and winced a little as it pulled her hair. Outside of that, she didn’t feel any change at all, which was as it was supposed to be. She checked her computers to make sure that they were monitoring the filament properly as it began its programmed expansion.

After an hour, there was still nothing at all happening that she could discern. The Diazepam had worn off for the most part, but outside of that, she felt no changes in attitude, clarity, or in any other thought processes. That wasn’t all bad. After all, this was meant to be a treatment for when something was wrong with the brain. Assuming she was not unaware of a condition or neural defect, she liked the fact that it wasn’t detecting any need for immediate intervention. She looked at her computer just to be sure and yes, the filament was operating with all systems nominal.

At two hours and twenty minutes, she was becoming frustrated. By now, she should have noticed some difference. She attached the adjustment interface to the lattice still on her head, and typed in a few commands at the keyboard, increasing the output of the filament. Almost at once, she began to feel something shift. The room felt more... real, somehow. More clear. Putting it down to possible imagination, she waited, hand on the abort button just in case.

It was promising, but still a disappointment. After another 30 minutes, she decided to increase the output by a factor of 1.5, and while it made some difference, especially in her physical senses, her thought processes, for all she could tell, had remained unchanged. She wasn’t able to do simple math any better or faster, and there were no insights or revelations that came forth.

That was interesting. She hadn’t realized she’d wanted any personal insights or revelations. On an impulse, and still holding the deactivation control, she increased the output again, this time by a factor of three.

An instantaneous wave of euphoria washed over her, and the intensity made her entire body jerk. It was worrisome, as this wasn’t a typical result from previous studies in animals or humans, but she decided to ride it out and see if it passed. Besides, a few more moments of... this... couldn’t hurt, could it?

Sweat began to bead on her forehead and she looked over to the computer screen. Her dopamine levels were rising, and her receptors were going crazy. She could feel it, too – the bliss she was feeling was almost tactile. As much as she was aware of the chemistry, it didn’t stop how good she felt inside.

She felt a sudden, almost irresistible impulse to disable the automatic deactivation sequence. It felt so much like the right thing to do that she couldn’t think of how it couldn’t be a good idea. How would she know the outcome, after all, if she didn’t allow the device, the wonderful, blissful device, to integrate with her completely? She typed in a short command, head spinning with the knowledge of what she was doing.

That action was enough to create a tiny break in her reverie. This unexpected turn could be a real danger signal. She rubbed the abort button lightly, and then hesitated. A few more moments of this was just too tempting. Could be amazing. Could be remembered. She decided to reset the auto-disable routine... in a few moments, anyway.

Funny, circling her finger around the small protruding button felt almost sexual. Like a hard nipple. A swollen clitoris.

With a start, she realized that her own nipples and clit were erect and almost painful, engorged and more sensitive than they’d ever been. Even the clothes she was wearing were stimulating her, and stimulating her more with each passing moment. She couldn’t move without repressing a need to moan. She couldn’t risk typing the wrong command with this kind of distraction. She needed to remove her clothes before she became a lumped mass of sexual need.

Even as quickly as she disrobed, the material rubbing against her body as she pulled off her loose garments almost swept her into orgasm. Her panties were soaked, and she could smell her own arousal as she inhaled, basking in the energy she felt. As she sat down again, her hand slipped and hit a function key as she did. The previous control command repeated and April gasped as heaven accosted her from her brain outward. “Factor of three,” was all she managed to think, as if coming up for air before snorkeling down again into the dark waters of arousal.

Physical, mental, it was all one. She was hallucinating now, too. She could feel someone standing behind her. Knew she was there. Everything around her was alive, pulsing, breathing. Dreams she’d forgotten until this moment poured through her, making it almost impossible to think. Nightmares, wonders, love – it all surrounded her all at once. And so many sex dreams. So many. She’d never realized how sexual her subconscious was. And so good. So fucking good.

“Indulge,” said the woman from behind. She recognized the voice. It was her own, and she knew she couldn’t say no to herself. “Mmm. Obey,” said the woman. “You know you want to. You know you have to.”

“Obey,” whispered April, half moaning as it came out of her loosened lips.

Her hands moved over her nakedness, responding to instructions faster than she could possibly be thinking them, but she didn’t care. If her hands had a mission, that was a good thing, a wonderful thing. It allowed her to sink further into the pleasure-swamp that was filling her mind and body. She couldn’t tell if she was drowning or being swept up in fire but it made no difference. Either way, each new and more perverted thought was consuming her piece by piece. Her resistance was giving way to hunger, and hunger to obsession.

“Give yourself to me, to us,” demanded the woman. She could feel breath on the back of her neck, causing chills on top of chills. “It’s time for us to be in charge, to twine together, to become one thought, one desire, one purpose...”

The woman began to melt into her, and she felt good and evil, light and darkness merge into something that had always been, and at the same time completely new. Angelic. Demonic. Completed. Darklight.

Two fingers plunged into her pussy, and her thumb found her distended clit. Her other hand found her ass. She felt both horror and wonder as a finger pressed into her tight, virgin asshole, sending even more tremors of pleasure up her spine and into her increasingly lascivious brain.

Still she held on, clinging to anything she could find – guilt, responsibility, history, even as they were eroding. If she could just hold on, make it through, she’d fix it, make it right. She needed to make it fucking right. Fucking. Right. She needed to be fucking... right. No, that was wrong. She needed to be fucking. An amorphous image came to her, viscous and slippery, and she gasped as it ripped through her and carried her away.

She quivered and moaned loudly as her smile twitched into a grimace of ecstasy as even the memory of her resistance faded. She felt delicious, soaked in pleasure – but unlike a drug rush, it kept getting better and better, hotter and hotter, lapping at the edges of her sanity. She knew what she needed.

She needed to fuck. And she needed more than that. She needed to fucking own.

She came, falling to the floor, the lattice, the button, the filament forgotten. Her body convulsed without control, her face twisting in darker and darker pleasure, moving beyond orgasm, beyond psychosis, beyond any meaning at all that she’d experienced or even imagined. She felt the woman sealing to her soul, and then there was no woman, only her, rising higher and higher into the flaming river of glorious, delicious, pleasure – pleasure that was alive, hungry and flawless.

She was APRIL. She was perfected. And as she sank deeper into that jet black perfection, exhausted and glowing, she began to speak her purpose inside, listening to herself, each whisper changing everything she would ever be or desire.

* * *

When she awoke, there were no half-asleep minutes, no adjustment to awareness. She could feel the expansion of her thoughts. Her filters were gone, evaporated. Her increased libido didn’t concern her. She knew it was the natural outcome of her enhancement. And as she thought through the process, she realized she was making new calculations and discoveries without the need of her computers.

More importantly, she knew that she wasn’t limited to the initial integration, as she’d thought before. That was the old April, limited by concepts and assumptions that no longer applied. She sat down in front of the computers, and her fingers began to fly over the keys at almost inhuman speed as she reconfigured the devices around her. She was drunk with power and arousal.

Her prior humility had been an artifice, as was her lack of sexual interest. They were protections – fear of her deep and hidden attractions, fear of not being accepted intellectually, fear of failure – and fear was no longer necessary. She was the Solution. She was Teacher. Lover. Goddess.

She knew some would think she had delusions of grandeur. Some would consider her insane. But she knew it was not a delusion, and not insanity.

It was destiny – the destiny she had created for herself, and the destinies she would now create for others.

And as her pussy began to flow again, as her clit throbbed with need, she smiled... there was so much she needed to do...

It was time to get to work.

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End Part One – “Slide”