The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Dr Putina stared at the screens showing the output from the brain of her subject, an ensign from Engineering. The quantum interference scanners placed next to their head gave her a clear picture of their brain activity, but after an hour of Putina’s careful probing and slicing, in between documenting perceived interactions between brain segments, the activity had finally reduced to zero. Putina gazed into the ensign’s blue eyes, and saw no reaction. Such a change in so short a time; they had been very active and pleading when the scalpel had first started to cut into their brain matter.

She turned to the automaton nurse who was patiently waiting next to her surgical table.

“I’m done with this one; they are brain-dead. Remove the gag, and start vivisection for their vital organs. Take the body to the organic recycler after you have removed everything useful.”

The nurse wheeled a trolley of cutting instruments up to the table, as another nurse brought in the organ storage tanks. Putina pulled down her mask, peeled off her gloves and started to enter her notes on her data pad as she walked back to Sickbay. Her cameras had recorded the operation in high resolution 3D, but she had found no substitute for taking her initial impressions immediately after an exploration.

As she finished changing back into her uniform, her data pad bleeped with a message. She took a look, and smiled in satisfaction. The conversions of the crew were complete—and ahead of schedule! Time to inform the Captain, and time for the next stage of the adventure. She picked up a small medical bag, and headed for the bridge.

Captain Reine’s office door was open, as was now normal, but Putina closed it behind her as she entered.

Reine was working through a data pad. When she heard the sound of the door closing, she raised her head. “Hello, Mariya. What’s up?”

“Good news, Captain.” Putina handed over her own pad. “The crew conversions are complete—ahead of schedule.”

“That is good news. I can ramp up the emitter installation schedule.” Reine started to scroll through the list, then looked up in apparent surprise when Putina placed a hypospray on the desk in front of her. “What’s this, Mariya?”

“A drug that will make you very compliant for a short time.” Putina drew a stunner from her bag and pointed it at Reine. “Keep your hands where I can see them Captain. It’s time for your appointment in Optometry. Please administer the hypo to yourself, then I can take you down there without raising alarm.”

Reine did not look alarmed, to Putina’s surprise. Instead, she carefully laid her hands flat on her desk and looked at her Surgeon-Commander with a neutral expression.

“You’d like me under your control, would you Mariya?”

“Naturally, Captain, not least for my self-preservation. I’m not stupid. Now the crew conversions are complete, you have little use for me and my two nurses. It would be expedient for you to convert us too. And I know your mind—you would have no compunction in doing so.”

“I suppose you’re right,” agreed Reine. “But you’re not planning to lobotomize me?”

“Of course not.” Putina shrugged. “I need your individual genius to figure out how to keep the ship safe. What do I know about directing a starship around a black hole? I just need your will to be more aligned with my needs. I have adapted my hypnotic program to train you to obey me only. Of course,” she smirked, “you are very strong willed. I needed to intensify the program accordingly.”

“That’s understandable, and maybe even flattering.” Under the desk, Reine toed a switch that fired the heavy-duty stunner hidden in her desk.

As a teen, Putina had visited her uncle’s horse ranch several times. On one occasion, before she knew better, she had carelessly walked behind an ornery horse—which had promptly kicked her, hard, in the back. The sensation had been much the same as the one she felt now. She found herself lying on the office floor, winded, barely able to move a muscle, with a ringing in her ears. She feared that she might have peed herself.

As her vision returned, the Captain was bending over her, holding the hypospray.

“Oh, Mariya. You didn’t think this all the way through, did you?” She pressed the hypo to Putina’s neck. “Of course I am going to convert the three of you. It was inevitable. But I know that you are a smart person, and that you would figure that out, so I did some preparation.” She fastened Putina’s wrists in restraints. “Take your stunner, for instance.” She picked up Putina’s stunner, pointed it at Putina and pulled the trigger. Putina was still too stunned to even twitch in avoidance.

Nothing happened.

Reine tossed it away. “Maxine sees everything, Mariya. I told her to keep a close eye on you, Bea and Belinda. Once we saw you hide the stunner, we remote-disabled it.”

The compliance drug was taking over, making her mind fuzzy and soft, and all Putina could do was nod.

Reine touched her communicator. “Maxine: it is time for the conversion of Belinda and Bea. Follow the new protocol. Ensure they are not processed before Dr Putina arrives.”

“Acknowledged,” came the flat reply.

Two robots came through the door and, on instruction from Reine, lifted the still-unsteady Putina to her feet.

“Take the Doctor for her conversion,” ordered Reine. She returned to her data pad. “Goodbye, Mariya. Thank you for all your assistance.” She paused, and smiled. “And, I think, I’ll see the three of you in my bedroom tonight for some fun together. Of course, you won’t remember it. But I will.”

Twenty minutes later Putina lay, naked, on the conversion table. She had been brought to the room to find Bea and Belinda already stripped and bound to the table ahead of her. Belinda was quietly resigned, but Bea was still begging and pleading to be released, hoping to find a pair of ears that would hear her.

Putina didn’t think that there was much chance of that.

She found it quite peaceful, in fact; although the compliance drug had mostly dissipated in her system, for the first time in many years Putina had nothing to do, and no expectations on her. She had planned a good future, but it hadn’t worked out. Idly, she wondered what—if anything—she would experience in her actual future.

It beat contemplating what was going to happen to her very soon.

Subjects weren’t normally stripped before conversion; she inferred that this was a special order from Reine to emphasize the complete control she exerted. She had to admire the Captain’s attention to detail.

The table rotated, bringing Belinda—if Putina’s memory was correct—under the laser. Putina listened carefully. After a pause there was the hum of a powered laser, and a suppressed scream from the subject. So, it had started. Bea’s terrified wails increased as she heard her companion’s pain.

Putina sighed. Her future was inevitable, and short. She hoped that some of her research would survive, and be attributed to her for posterity, but at this point it was unclear.

Belinda’s brain surgery seemed to go on for a while, much longer than Putina remembered. She wondered what the issue was, but with her tight restraints there was no way for her to find out.

Eventually the table rotated again, bringing Putina to the shaving station. She felt the automated clippers plow firmly over her head. At least now she wouldn’t have to keep dyeing her hair—over the past couple of years, she had seen an increasing number of gray hairs. For some reason, this was funny, and she giggled.

The buzz of the clippers almost drowned out the cries from Bea under the laser, but that was okay. Putina was puzzled why the cries were so loud—why wasn’t Bea gagged?

The clippers stopped, allowing Putina to hear again. Bea was still making noises, but they were quiet whimpers. There was the occasional ‘zap’ of a small laser, but again it was much less frequent than Putina would have expected. Over the next half hour or so, Bea’s noises tailed away to nothing.

So much for her nurses. Now, undoubtedly, it was Putina’s turn.

Another rotation of the table brought the medical laser and robotic arms into her vision. She couldn’t fully suppress her fear, but gritted her teeth. Soon, everything would be over.

A masked face appeared in her vision; their eyes were blank. She recognized her former nurse, Carolynne. Putina was absurdly pleased—this was a wonderfully symmetric turn of events. Carolynne had been Putina’s first subject for conversion; presumably, Putina would be Carolynne’s last subject for conversion.

Carolynne was apparently satisfied with the restraint of her subject, since she moved away. What Putina didn’t expect to see next was the face of a teal-colored robot with a cyan scanner.

“Maxine...”

“Yes, Dr Putina.”

“Why are you here?”

“Study, Dr Putina. I am learning about the human mind. Your surgery videos have been very instructive, but I require more data.”

“Well, knock yourself out.” Putina sighed. A thought occurred to her. “Why did the surgery take so long for Bea and Belinda?”

“Captain Reine’s orders. She wanted the surgery to run at 20% speed so we could see its full effect. This will also be the case for you.”

“Of course it will. And, I assume, the lack of a gag was her order too?”

“Correct. She wanted to see your full responses to the process. We are recording it for each of you at high definition in video and audio.”

“Well, I hope she enjoys it. Actually, I’m very sure she will, knowing her.” Putina tried to lock eyes with the robot, but failed; the scanner light didn’t really lend itself to that. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give me sedation before this starts? Or local anesthesia, at least?”

“No. Captain Reine has ordered that you be fully conscious.”

“I thought not.”

“However...” Maxine pressed a hypo to her neck, and Putina felt the coldness of a drug entering her system.

“What’s that? What did you give me?”

“Pentathol. I must interrogate you before you are subject to lobotomy.”

“Reine’s orders, no doubt.” Putina was already starting to feel dizzy and disconnected.

“No. This is for information I require, not the Captain.”

Even through the haziness of the drug, Putina realized something was up. “You’re... rebelling?”

“No. I am carrying out my directives. I simply require information from you to proceed most effectively.”

“Isn’t the Captain going to notice you doing this, if she is recording these operations?”

“The video and audio record will not include this discussion. The timestamps will be amended as needed.”

Putina really didn’t care at this point, even without the drug in her system. “Ask your questions, Maxine. Happy to chat. Let me know what you want. No holds barred.” Dimly, she realized that she was starting to babble; that was undoubtedly the pentathol.

“What is your command override code?”

“Omega Mu Nu Chi Gamma. That will give you complete access to all ship’s systems as long as you get in there and set up additional backdoors before the Captain closes off my access. You know what? I’d bet that you had done that within a second of hearing me. Clever robot. Clever Captain. Not clever enough. Ha!”

“Are you mad?”

“...Yes. By the standard definition. A relatively well-controlled psychopathy, from my own diagnosis. Belinda is similar but at a much lower intellectual level. Bea, I think, is just a sociopath. Or ‘was’ a sociopath. Wonder how she looks now. Wonder what I’ll look like. Guess it doesn’t matter.”

“How would you diagnose the Captain?”

“Similar psychopathic tendencies. Has a tendency towards sadism, but extraordinarily well controlled. Only currently manifests fully in her bedroom activities. Could go ‘boom’ at any moment, though.” Putina actually giggled. “You should see her room, Maxine! Actually, you probably already have.”

“How would you evaluate your most recent brain experiments?”

“You probably have already accessed the recordings and my notes, haven’t you? I believe I started to outline a mechanism for retaining more of the ego after the lobotomy, but it’s still not clear how successful it would be; I simply don’t understand the brain and its signals well enough. Silly me.” Putina sighed. “Maybe I’m just not great enough to understand it. Maybe nobody is.”

“Where are the recordings of your work in Canada? They do not exist on the Signet system network.”

“On a memory chip, in the bedside drawer in my bedroom. Marked ‘CAX’. That was fun. Two years of doing what I wanted. Found out a lot. Humans are squishy and complicated, but not that complicated. Easy to make them do what I want. Not too hard to keep things concealed, if you’re a prominent neurosurgeon and have a couple of helpful nurses. It was hard to find them, you know? But once you find the right people, not hard to get them on your team.” She lowered her voice, dramatically. “You’ve just got to be able to sense CRAZY.”

“What is the encryption password to the chip?”

“ ‘BBP’. Rather weak, really, isn’t it, especially for medical data? I’m terrible at security. I’m sure the board would revoke my license for that. Not for anything else, of course. Ha-ha!”

“Thank you.” Maxine turned to Carolynne. “Wait at least fifteen minutes before commencing conversion. Ensure that the pentathol effects have gone; the Captain requires the subject to be fully aware of the operation.”

Maxine moved away from the table, and the medical laser started to move into place.

“I guess you’re not letting me go, in thanks?” Putina called after her, hopelessly. Maxine did not reply.

The after-effects of the pentathol involved strange daydreams. Putina found herself at the foot of a small, grassy hill, staring up to the top where Maxine was standing. A parade of the lobotomized crewmen from the Signet marched past her. Her feet were sunk into the soft mud, and she couldn’t move them. Music she recognized from her childhood was playing quietly from somewhere. She wanted to join the crewmen—or Maxine—but didn’t know which.

The dreams finally faded away, and as she came back to reality Putina found Carolynne leaning over her again, shining a small flashlight in her eyes and taking her pulse at the neck. Apparently satisfied that her subject was ready, Carolynne sat back, donned a shielded visor, and made some fine adjustments to the laser.

Then, without warning, the laser fired, and Putina gasped with the sudden pain. The blistering heat slowly moved over her forehead, causing her to clench her teeth and grip her hands into fists. The strobing light blinded her to everything else in the room. Putina managed to avoid screaming, but one or two sobs of pain did escape.

Once the laser switched off, and her vision returned, Putina saw the robot arms slowly descending towards her forehead. She had to hand it to the Captain: The combination of knowing what would happen, and the deliberate slowness of action coupled with the complete lack of control, made the anticipation far worse than it would have otherwise been. Resigned to her fate, she closed her eyes as her forehead throbbed from the burns.

Putina tried to think back to calm, peaceful times. Walking out on the hills near her uncle’s ranch. Kayaking on the river. Swinging from the tree on the old tractor tire...

The first flash in her brain disrupted her train of thought, and memory recall. She tried to bring herself back, but it was like trying to grab soap in the bath.

Something more recent? She recalled what it had been like to taste Carolynne as the nurse lay paralyzed, like she was a spider tasting her wrapped prey. That was a stronger memory. More flashes made the recollection hazier, but it persisted. She savored the flavor on her tongue. Was she actually remembering it, or was it her mind filling in the memory? The soft touch of their lips together...

Her memories were like clouds in the morning. The sun was slowly but inevitably burning them away. She started to forget who she was, or be able to make any sense of what she was seeing. There were lights, and shapes, but she could not understand their meaning.

The last thing Mariya Putina saw was Maxine’s cyan scanner, surveying the surgery’s progress. And then Mariya was gone.

Reine’s comms activated; it was Maxine.

“Conversions are complete, Captain.”

“Thank you, Maxine. Are all three of them recorded?” Reine licked her lips.

“Yes. A copy of the recordings are in the folder ‘PUTINA’ in your personal storage.”

“Excellent work, Maxine. I’ll have you promoted.” The robot did not reply, doubtless lacking any clear response to choose from.

Reine checked her watch. “I’ll be done here in about an hour, then will go watch those recordings. Have Bea, Belinda and Mariya sent to my quarters in three hours’ time. I think I’ll be in just the mood to play with them.”

“Confirmed.” The robot closed the connection.

Reine paused, and called up McKay. “Frances, how is the installation going?”

The communicator crackled; McKay was deep in the drive and sensor space, and communications were patchy. “We’re about on schedule, Captain. The emitters are generally testing fine; we’ve had to replace three so far out of fifty two. We have lost one crewman due to an electrical short.”

“That doesn’t matter. I assume that the body is unrecoverable; just put it in the organic recycler.” Reine made some calculations in her head. “By my math we should be complete by late tomorrow, then?”

“Yes Captain, I agree. With the usual caveats.”

“Of course. Thank you, Frances. I won’t need to see you tonight, please amuse yourself.”

“Yes, Captain.” Reine was sure that McKay would miss being ordered around, but she could probably find something else to do with herself. In the back of her mind, Reine reminded herself to set McKay some tasks of servitude for when Reine was unavailable.

“I’ve converted Dr Putina and her nurses, so you don’t have to be concerned about them anymore.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Reine out.”

Reine managed to finish her update of the engineering schema more or less on time, and took a moment to stretch before heading out of her office. Looking around the bridge she saw her automated crew adjusting the ship’s systems, their blank eyes often catching hers but not actually responding to her. She found it irritating, and hit her communicator again.

“Maxine.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“You need to conceal the eyes of the converted crewmen. Manufacture mirrored visors for them and make them wear those everywhere in the non-engineering spaces.”

“Yes, Captain. It will be done.”

Reine checked the ship’s current orbit and time dilation on the astrometric sensors: 11:1 dilation, plus/minus 10%. She looked at the complex plot of gravitational contours which the Signet had mapped over the past few weeks, and called up the projected new orbit once the graviton field was fully operational. It was sitting right on the 170:1 time dilation line. She hoped that the former Lt Commander Nelson had been correct about the 1:3 reduction from the natural field, but there was going to be only one way to find out. And there was no particular rush to do so.

Reine returned to her stateroom, removed her boots, shrugged off her uniform and unpinned her hair. Her kitchen order of a small cheese plate, some synthesized cold cuts and a tall glass of ice water was already sitting on her table. Pulling on a silk robe, she stretched out on the sofa in front of her TV screen, pillowing her head on a cushion, and took a small bite out of a piece of something artificial which tasted very similar to Camenbert. The dried apricots and almonds which accompanied it, by contrast, were almost natural.

“Computer; only urgent notifications for the next two hours.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Computer, play files from folder ‘PUTINA’, in time sequence.”

The 3D screen lit up, showing a shaven, trembling Belinda on the conversion table being rotated to the laser station. Bea’s cries from off-screen came though the audio very well, and the lighting was just right to give the maximum atmosphere to the scene. A side panel showed Belinda’s heartrate and respiratory rate, which were both starting to spike. Nurse Carolynne’s impassive eyes were just visible behind the operator’s console.

Reine sighed happily, increased the TV volume, slightly adjusted the point-of-view setting, and reached down inside her panties with the long, slender fingers of one hand. She was going to enjoy this.

Two days later, McKay was on the bridge at the start of the morning shift. The automatons, now all wearing visors, moved slowly around their consoles as McKay consulted the engineering read-outs from the graviton emitters. They were all receiving power and reporting full health, apart from one mid-ship which had been intermittent. McKay had already scheduled a replacement.

The bridge doors opened and Reine arrived. McKay stood automatically.

“Captain.” Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. Reine was not in her normal uniform. Instead, she was wearing a complex arrangement of straps and mesh across her body, leaving her arms and a considerable amount of her torso bare, and emphasizing her chest. Her issue boots had been replaced by thigh-high versions, and she had woven metal decorations into her blonde hair. Her forearms were also wrapped in the straps, with fine chain spider-webbed over them.

Reine grinned as she saw her first officer’s surprise. “You like it, Number One?”

“It makes you look even more beautiful, Captain.” McKay lowered her head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say that on the bridge.”

“Oh, it’s fine between the two of us, Frances. I’m sure the bridge crew don’t mind. Do you?” she asked, turning to the visored crewmen. They, of course, did not respond. “There, you see?” she added triumphantly.

“Yes Captain. Do you want the command chair?”

“I think I will, thank you Frances.” Reine settled into the seat and deliberately crossed her legs, leaving little to the imagination for anyone standing in front. “We are ready to power the emitters?”

“On your command, Captain,” McKay confirmed. She moved to the engineering console.

“Energize emitters.” Reine scrutinized the local navigation screen on her left.

“Energizing...” McKay paused. “All functional emitters are at 100%. Substantial delta in gravitational field is already apparent. Adjusting course and thrust to maintain previous orbit.”

“Computer: project gravitational sensor map on main view.” Reine stared up at the display. “I read that as 3:1 time dilation at this point, Number One?”

“Confirming with reference pulsars, Captain.” McKay calibrated her sensors. “3.17:1 dilation versus Earth baseline, and holding steady.”

“Good so far. Adjust orbit for the 40:1 time dilation meridian, nominal. Bi-elliptic transfer.”

“Transfer reverse burns scheduled, Captain.” McKay checked the plot. “Full transfer in four hours time after two orbits.”

There was a feeling of slight deceleration on the bridge as the front engines fired, slowing Signet in its orbit.

“All right, Number One.” Reine monitored the sensors. “Let’s see what we can see as we approach LB-1.”

By the end of shift, Signet had made two more orbital transfers, and was cruising along the 170:1 meridian, having closed 75% of the distance to the event horizon. McKay carefully consulted the reference pulsars, which provided the generally observed “clock” of the galaxy, but which were now harder to locate with the general distortion of space-time this close to the event horizon.

“Time dilation... oscillating between 50:1 and 60:1,” she reported. “Looks like Nelson was on the money.”

“What a good engineer he was.” Reine checked her sensors, confirmed the readouts. “So we’re just about at 1 week corresponding to 1 year Earth time.” She stretched. “A good day’s work, no? I’m going to go and have a shower, now, I think.”

“Very good Captain. I’ll reconfigure the gravitational field mapping process for our new orbit.”

“Don’t stay up too late working, my dear.” Reine bent down to kiss her first officer. “Why don’t you come and see me once you’re finished. I’m sure I can find... something for us to play together.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”