The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Gunfire lit up the war-torn battlefield, as numerous explosions filled the air with dirt and debris. The smoke was so thick that it was difficult to see more than a few yards in front of you. Any unprotected human in this environment would begin to suffocate in mere moments, if they weren’t already burnt to a crisp by the sheer heat or torn asunder by waves of plasma bullets.

No less than twenty soldiers and three tanks were surrounding and firing upon a small rock formation—the only visible landmark in the nearby surroundings. Hunkered down in defensive positions throughout the rocks were five armored soldiers wielding large rifles. Their bulky, full-body exoskeletons made it almost impossible to discern one individual from the other; their armor was identical and painted completely gray, with the only identifying characteristics being a serial number and rank insignia stamped onto each soldier’s chestplate.

“Missile incoming! Get down!” A hoarse male voice echoed around the rocky fortress, and the squad hit the deck as a large projectile whistled past. It veered upward at the last moment, perhaps as a result of malfunction, exploding some thirty feet above their position.

The same male voice shouted again. “Oh, fuck! Concentrate fire above!” The missile had jarred loose a number of boulders, which began to fall towards the soldiers with terrifying speed. While it would give their enemy an opening, the squad had no choice and turned their rifles towards the falling rocks.

However, before they had a chance to pull the trigger—a large energy beam vaporized the boulders in an instant. Looking off to the side for the source of the blast, the soldiers saw an individual standing alone amidst the chaos, in similar armor as their own but painted a bold shade of red.

“Stay focused on maintaining your perimeter. Leave the rest to me.” The new arrival opened a communication channel and spoke to the squad. The voice was female and, despite the dire situation, she sounded calm, even cold.

Her presence seemed to immediately and markedly improve the soldier’s morale.

“It’s her!” “I can’t believe it… The Scarlet Hunter…” “I told you they wouldn’t abandon us!”

Without paying any mind to their words, the red-clad woman sprang into action. The nearest enemy soldiers turned their sights onto her, but she was faster. Not only was her speed second-to-none, her accuracy was impeccable. Toggling her plasma cannon from a sustained beam to individual bullets, it took only a single shot to down each of the men attacking her—three total. Before their bodies had hit the ground, she was already sprinting towards the next group of hostiles, while the soldiers she had rescued simply looked on in awe.

One of the tanks fired at the woman as she approached, but she didn’t slow in the slightest. Instead, she leaped at just the last possible second, twisting her body to let the shell pass harmlessly underneath her, and it detonated some distance behind. Before the tank could reload, she raised her own cannon and retaliated. The same energy beam that had destroyed the falling rocks now buffeted the tank. While the tank had shielding in place to weather such attacks, it bought the woman enough time to close the distance and fire again, this time down the tank’s barrel. The cabin immediately exploded, scattering the charred remains of its pilot across a wide radius.

“Squad Gamma.” A second voice, also female, roused the rescued soldiers back to attention. “Move to coordinate H67.3 and await further instruction.”

After taking a split-second to visualize the coordinate location on the battlefield, the squad leader was confused but held his tongue. He would trust the woman who had saved his hide more times than he could count.

The group of men (“Squad Gamma”, as they’d been called) moved to their ordered position as the red woman continued to decimate the enemy forces singlehandedly. She wasn’t completely untouchable, but the few rounds that found their mark bounced harmlessly off her armor’s shields. Eventually, Squad Gamma had reached their destination—an open space far east of the enemy.

“What now, ma’am?” the squad leader asked. He was worried about his men; they were essentially sitting ducks out here.

“Stand by.” Not exactly a reassuring response.

They were far enough away from the combat that the smoke obscured their view of the red woman, although the sounds of gunshots and screeching metal made it clear that her fight was not over. After another few seconds of nothing…

“Squad Gamma, fire directly above your positions, now!”

“Ma’am?” The squad leader couldn’t hide his incredulity.

“Do it, Commander.” The power in her voice spurned them to action, and Squad Gamma unloaded their rifles into the sky.

The bright plasma sailed up and up until it was out of sight—or at least, that’s what they all expected to happen. Instead, their fire was intercepted by an invisible object hanging in the air: a cloaked enemy transport ship. Based on its trajectory, the vessel was in the process of making a descent to drop off additional reinforcements. However, while cloaking renders a vehicle nearly imperceptible to the naked eye, the trade-off is that it also requires that all shielding be disabled.

Thus, Gamma’s rifle fire ripped through the enemy craft. The cockpit was eviscerated, sending the ship into a dramatic tailspin before crashing into the ground a short distance away—right on top of one of the remaining tanks.

“Holy shit.” Once again, the men were in awe. Detecting a stationary cloaked vehicle was technically possible but extremely difficult; predicting and bringing down a moving one was almost unheard of.

A moment later, the red woman destroyed the third and final tank—and the battlefield fell silent.

“Man…” one of Gamma’s soldiers muttered. “Those two are something else.”

I entered the final configuration commands into the terminal as our allied transport docked. They were returning victorious from the planet of Zixue, having successfully routed Imperial forces in the fields outside the planet’s capital.

The airlock door opened and about fifty of our men, soldiers of the Unified Nations, stumbled in. Their armor was battered and they all looked weary, though that was purely from their body language—their faces were impossible to see with their helmets still on. Eager to relax now that they were finally home, the soldiers all lined up by the armor stations. Each of these stations could deconstruct (or reconstruct) a soldier’s armor in seconds, leaving only the skintight full-body jumpsuit underneath.

I watched the soldiers come and go, keeping a close eye on each of their health readouts—they were scanned for biological issues or injuries as part of the armor removal process. However, I was the chief engineer, not a doctor, so all I did was note any abnormalities and send anyone with problems to the infirmary for a closer look.

The final soldier to step into the station was a tall woman with red armor. She wasn’t the only one with a nonstandard armor color (EOD specialists, for example, wore blue armor), but as far as I knew, she was the only soldier in the entire military sporting this distinctive shade of red. That’s how I knew she was a woman, despite the shape of the armor itself making it impossible to tell.

The armor was removed from the woman’s limbs and abdomen first. She was wearing the same jumpsuit as everyone else, but even through its material, one could plainly see she was incredibly fit. However, what my eyes appreciated most was her impressive rack. In times past, breasts so large might have encumbered her ability to fight, but modern-day armor was designed to hold them firm, preventing any movement. Even so, the jumpsuit clung tightly to her entire body, leaving nothing to the imagination.

As the helmet was lifted off her head, long locks of blonde hair unfurled themselves and cascaded down her shoulders. Her face was pretty, with sharp blue eyes and a beauty mark on her chin.

“Everything go well out there, Major Adams? Any issues with the armor?” I asked her, as she climbed out of the armor station. She had brought some new upgrades into the field for the first time today. She looked at me with no particular emotion and curtly said, “Yes. No problems.” Then, without so much as a goodbye, she started walking away.

Well, I wasn’t offended. I knew that’s just how she was. To some she might come off as aloof, but she wasn’t the type to look down on people or make fun of them. It’s just that she was all business; I don’t know if I’d ever seen her express an emotion outside of “professionalism”.

She… was a hero. This was Major Samantha Adams, arguably the best ground soldier the Unified Nations had. Time and again, she’d been deployed to hellish warzones and been instrumental in turning the tide. She had an innate sense for combat which, paired with her peak physical condition, made her more than a match for even a hundred men—and that’s without the top-of-the-line armor and weapons that she now wielded. She was renowned and feared by all nations as an unstoppable force on the battlefield, nicknamed the “Scarlet Hunter” for both the color of her armor and the bloodbaths she left in her wake.

As she walked toward the hangar exit, another woman entered, flanked by a female adjutant. This newcomer was dressed in the formal wear and cap of a naval officer, including white pants and coat. Pinned to her lapel were numerous medals and commendations. Paired with her perfect posture and self-assured bearing, even a stranger would be able to tell that she was someone of importance.

Physically, the officer had short black hair and brown eyes with glasses. Like Major Adams, she was well-endowed, though her manner of dress made it difficult to say which of the women was larger.

“Well done, Samantha.” The officer greeted the Major with praise. In response, Adams straightened up and raised her hand in a perfect salute, saying “Thank you, Admiral.”

Rather than being pleased at the textbook reply, the Admiral seemed exasperated and sighed. “Really, Samantha? No one else is around except my assistant. It’s okay to call me Catherine.”

This wasn’t exactly common knowledge, but Major Adams owed a good portion of her victories to the woman in front of her, Admiral Catherine Locke. Brute force can only get one so far, and Catherine made up for Samantha’s shortcomings with a fierce intellect and keen mind for strategy. She could analyze incoming intelligence and devise calculated responses in the blink of an eye. Every move Adams made in combat, Locke would ensure the rest of the forces were there to back her up and capitalize on her strength. While she had a reputation for unconventional tactics, no one could argue against her success.

Locke and Adams had risen through the ranks in lockstep, each rarely deployed without the other. Occasionally, some would claim that their achievements were exaggerated or unearned, perhaps because Locke’s husband was a leading politician, but anyone who saw those two in action knew that they were the real deal.

And on top of that, they were sisters. (Admiral Locke had taken her husband’s last name.)

Major Adams glanced at me after Locke spoke. While it was true that the other soldiers had already filtered out of the hangar, I was still here, running some maintenance tasks on the armor stations maybe twenty feet away.

Locke followed her sister’s gaze and her eyes narrowed. “Well… almost no one.” To a casual listener, it’d seem like she just hadn’t noticed me until now, but I knew her too well. She was actually implying that I was beneath her notice, that I was no one.

The heroines shook hands and Adams moved to leave. I couldn’t help eyeing her rear for a couple seconds as she walked out. Those jumpsuits were just so damn form-fitting…

However, Admiral Locke stayed behind, and approached me once the door closed. Her face held a polite smile, but a faint disgust simmered in her eyes.

“Chief Engineer Anthony Cooper”, she stated.

“Yes?” She had a habit of addressing me like that, with my full name and title. Maybe to make it clear that we were strictly business associates.

Locke nodded to her assistant, who walked over and handed me a tablet. The screen was filled with dry legal text; the beginning of what appeared to be a very long document.

“Headquarters has sent us this compilation of R&D data. I’d like you to read through it and give me a succinct report on any relevant findings by 1200 hours tomorrow.” As was her way, on the surface that was a perfectly reasonable request to ask of a ship’s chief engineer, but the research data she’d just offloaded onto me was both detailed and extremely complex. It would normally take a full day to read properly, let alone draw any conclusions from.

The Admiral’s smile was unchanged, but it now appeared to me more like a devilish sneer.

However, I didn’t rise to her bait. “Roger that, ma’am. I’ll get it done.”

It wasn’t worth trying to argue with her, or to complain that this was unfair. I was used to this sort of treatment. Not only was Locke in charge of this particular ship, the Athens, but she was practically a god in military circles. With a snap of her fingers, I’d be out of a job… or worse.

Without another word, the Admiral departed, her “smile” never leaving her face. I was now alone in the hangar.

She was always careful not to be overt or obvious about it, but this kind of harassment was a regular occurrence from Locke. It was my own fault, in a way. Originally, our working relationship had been typical, neither especially good nor bad. Just a boss and her subordinate; she’d assign work, I’d do it, and she’d listen to my feedback in turn as the ship’s chief engineer. One day though, it all changed. I’d been careless.

In this day and age, it’s relatively easy to construct AI replicas of famous figures, and the technology has been heavily used for pornography. A lot of people will pay good money for porn videos or VR experiences involving these AIs; although the AIs exist in a virtual environment, a competently made simulation is essentially indistinguishable from reality. It’s like you’re actually watching these celebrities have sex.

It hadn’t usually been my thing, but seeing the Scarlet Hunter in her jumpsuit day in and day out, my libido got the better of me. After one deployment, alone in the hangar just like I am now, I pulled up porn featuring an AI of Major Adams — just as Admiral Locke walked in. In hindsight, I obviously should’ve waited until I returned to my personal quarters, but like I said, I was careless. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, I’ll have the hangar to myself after the troops leave; that night was the rare, costly exception.

It wasn’t immediately clear if Admiral Locke had seen anything, but before long she started treating me differently. She became much harsher on my maintenance reports, setting unrealistic goals for my work and always acting vaguely disgusted in my presence. It’s like she thought I was the only man on the ship who’d watched simulated porn of her sister! I guess I’ll at least consider myself lucky that she didn’t know about my occasional forays into Catherine Locke porn…

With a long sigh, I turned my attention to the tablet in my hands and began to read. There was another reason I hadn’t refused this unreasonable order — because I knew I could actually get it done. I wasn’t stationed on the Athens by coincidence; the military made sure Locke and Adams were surrounded by impeccable staff, myself included. The average engineer had no chance of reading and summarizing all this in time, but I’d just barely manage if I worked through the night. Imagining the surprise on the Admiral’s face when I turned in a proper report tomorrow was more than enough motivation for me.

The document chronicled various lab trials and the resulting data. I scanned through each one by one, jotting down important bullet points as I went. The topics were mostly useful, but relatively mundane: “Atomic Structures to Increase Armor Durability Without Mass Gain”, “Alternate Power Sources for Plasma Firearms”, “Effective Methods of Food Synthesis in the Field”, the list went on and on.

After a while, I came upon an especially intriguing study: “Improving Physical Capabilities via Neural Implant”. Every member of the Unified Nations military had a neural implant. However, it was purely used for communication and identification purposes, such as our IFF system. However, according to this study, it was theoretically possible to use the implant to affect the body’s hormone levels, such as deliberately increasing a soldier’s adrenaline.

As a curious engineer, I’d previously done some independent research on neural implants on my own time. Specifically, I’d had some success improving memory recall, but I had never considered using the implant to the extent that this study claimed was possible.

I read the study more thoroughly, and my mind began to race. Combining some findings of this study with my own personal discoveries, there was a strong implication that the implant could be used to create or even rewrite brain synapses. Theoretically — purely theoretically — this could be used to make someone forcibly learn certain information or think in specific ways. The idea was frightening. A person’s brain… was their everything.

I sat back and looked around, making sure I was alone. Then, I took the tablet to my quarters and pulled out some of my research journals. Cross referencing my notes with this R&D study, I began to work out new formulas and calculations. I was losing vital time to read through the rest of this document for Locke’s report, but I was too engrossed to care.

Minutes went by, then hours. However, the more numbers I crunched, the more certain I became.

“This… this could be possible…” I muttered to myself.

Catherine

I was sitting on the command chair of the bridge, gazing out at the sight before me. Fifteen senior navigation officers were heads-down at their workstations, diligently guiding us through the cosmos. Just past them, a wide viewport showed off the countless stars of the expanse beyond.

I tore my gaze from the vastness of space to finish reviewing the radar data on my console. The Athens would be traveling through a new nebula over the next week, and recent reports of pirate activity had put me on my guard. However, a thorough analysis of our surroundings eased my concerns. I could say with certainty that there were no hostiles waiting to ambush my ship.

“Admiral Locke.” Lieutenant Lisa Gonzalez appeared at my side with a salute. She was one of my most trusted aides; young, but meticulous and driven. The Unified Nations needed more people like her.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” I lowered the radar report and gave her my attention.

“Chief Engineer Cooper is here to see you.” Gonzalez stayed at attention as she informed me of the visitor. Truly a model soldier.

“Send him in,” I told her, and she stepped away with a firm nod of acknowledgement.

It was 1400 hours. He’s late. Typical. That slime was the opposite of Gonzalez. No work ethic whatsoever.

I rotated my chair 180 degrees, turning away from the viewport to face Cooper as he entered the bridge.

The man walking towards me was the definition of “sleazy”. He was short and slightly overweight, and his uniform — as always — was mildly disheveled. I knew it was improper to judge someone based solely on appearances, but I also knew for a fact that “sleazy” was in fact an accurate descriptor for Anthony Cooper. While I had to admit he was relatively sharp as an engineer, in the time that I’d known him I had seen him ogle various female personnel when he thought no one was watching.

I’d tolerated this for the sake of unit cohesion, since he never physically or verbally harassed anyone, but the final straw was when I caught him watching simulated pornography of my sister, Samantha Adams. The act itself was disrespectful enough, but what irritated me even more was that he had been stupid enough to get caught. The Athens had no place for lecherous fools who let their genitalia do the thinking.

Knowing who I was dealing with, I crossed my legs as Cooper approached, causing my skirt to ruffle slightly with the movement. I wouldn’t put it past this degenerate to try and peek up my skirt if I remained seated normally.

“Admiral,” Cooper mustered a lazy salute, subtly licking his lips and glancing at my calves. “I’ve completed that R&D report. Sorry it’s late… the quantity of data was extensive.”

With that underwhelming excuse, Cooper held out a tablet and Gonzalez stepped forward to receive it.

“Punctuality is critical in any military organization, Chief Engineer,” I chastised the man. “Don’t let this happen again.”

“Of course, ma’am.” His words were proper, but his tone was insincere.

“Dismissed.”

Cooper left the bridge. If I wasn’t surrounded by my subordinates, I would have sighed. As soon as I could afford it, that worm was getting transferred to a different vessel. No amount of technical expertise was worth the heartburn. There were countless others who could fill his role.

Pushing Anthony Cooper out of my mind, I re-examined the ship’s radar scan one last time. Nothing was going to slip past me.

I had to stop myself from skipping away from the bridge, and maintained a casual appearance until I reached the safety of my quarters. Once there, I fist pumped the air.

It worked!

Thanks to my role as chief engineer, I had basic access to every crew member’s neural implant to apply firmware updates. Based on last night’s research, I had formulated my own “update”, one that would theoretically result in a cognitive change. Then, I inserted my “update” into our ship’s localized database. (Normally, there were security measures in place to prevent that sort of thing, but my familiarity with our systems made them easy to circumvent.)

In effect, this caused my “update” to get sent out to everyone on the ship. That wasn’t ideal, but due to the network infrastructure and anonymized data streams, it was impossible to send the “update” to just one person. Thankfully, I could at least exclude myself from the “update” — since I had physical access to my own implant, I was able to set up countermeasures to “block” my code from running.

To play it safe, my “update” was small and innocuous. There are two kinds of attire that personnel are allowed to wear on the Athens: the skintight jumpsuit and a standard military uniform. The jumpsuit is preferred by infantrymen (and women), such as Major Adams, even when we’re outside of active combat zones. Mainly, this is because of its special breathable material, which is very comfortable to exercise in.

For everyone else, people like engineers and command staff who rarely leave the ship, we stick with the standard uniform. The uniform itself has two variations: one with pants and one with a skirt. All personnel are allowed to wear either. Some women (and even a few men) prefer the skirt, but most, including Admiral Locke, exclusively wear the pants. However, according to the cognition change in my “update”, the skirt uniform was no longer optional for women; it was required.

The “update” went into effect overnight, but spending all that time on it meant that I had no hope of finishing that R&D report for Locke on time. I worked as fast as I could, but still arrived on the bridge a couple hours past the deadline.

Locke gave me her usual lecture, conveniently ignoring the fact that a report of this scale would have been impossible for a lesser engineer to deliver today at all. Regardless, I barely listened to her words, because — she was wearing a skirt. The Admiral Catherine Locke was wearing a skirt. Not only that, the Hispanic lieutenant next to her was wearing a skirt. Every woman on the bridge was wearing a skirt.

The skirt was completely modest and professional, falling to about the knee. This was a standard uniform, after all, willingly worn by millions of women across the galaxy. But it was worth celebrating what that skirt represented. Even the great Catherine Locke hadn’t noticed that she was doing anything unusual by wearing it.

With my first experiment a resounding success, I furthered my research and ran dozens of simulations. Based on those simulations, I concluded that the human brain would reject a cognitive change that was too dissimilar or illogical compared to the individual’s genuine knowledge base. However, it seemed possible to work up to larger changes by slowly stacking and reinforcing smaller ones.

To test this theory, I sent out new implant “updates” over the course of a week, focused on gradually shortening the length of a “work-appropriate” skirt. By the end of that week, every uniformed woman on the Athens was wearing an extremely short skirt that ended at the upper thigh, almost fully revealing their bare legs. And just as planned, no one noticed. No one cared. To everyone but me, this was simply the normal female uniform.

My mind was rolling with the possibilities, but I tried to stay calm. Wearing a short skirt was certainly inappropriate for a military vessel, but it didn’t blatantly go against common sense. It wasn’t as if all these women were walking around naked; I had no proof that more extreme “updates” would be accepted just as smoothly. Let’s do one more test.

Samantha

“Seven… eight… nine… two hundred.”

Finishing my final rep of push-ups, I stood up and took several deep breaths before transitioning to the treadmill. I was in the training room, along with over a dozen other men and women. We were all in the midst of our own workout routines; keeping our bodies in peak condition at all times was expected for soldiers like us.

“Hey, ladies! Want some protein shakes?”

He came in just as I had begun running. Chief Engineer Cooper, holding a tray of protein shakes.

His presence here was unusual—unprecedented, even. Shipboard engineers weren’t held to the same physical standards as us field personnel, and as such I’d never seen Cooper in this facility before.

In fact, I’d never interacted with the Chief Engineer outside of equipment-based conversations immediately before and after deployment. He seemed competent enough at his job, but I wasn’t one for socializing. Even if I was, I tended to bond better with fellow comrades on the ground.

While Cooper waited for a response, I saw him glance at my body, so quickly that I might have missed it were it not for my acute senses. His eyes especially lingered on my breasts, which were bouncing slightly since I was currently running. I was indifferent to his gaze. I knew I had what would be considered an attractive body, and he at least had the decency to meet my eyes a moment later. That was infinitely preferable to some of our new recruits, who would gawk at me openly when they thought I wasn’t looking.

“Major Adams? How about you?”

None of us had said anything, so he called out to me. I was about to refuse, but — it’s true that protein is a good way to build muscle. Plus, since it’s biologically more difficult for women to build muscle than men, a female frontline combatant should never refuse a protein drink. Although I had no doubt I was the strongest person on the Athens, there’s no harm in using every tool available to maintain my edge.

So, I nodded and grabbed one of his shakes. “Thank you, Cooper. It’s appreciated.”

Now that I’d broken the ice, the other women in the training room followed suit. I tended to have that effect on people. (The men politely declined and returned to their training.)

“Happy to help! I want to do anything I can to strengthen our forces.” With that last remark, Cooper left the training room and we all drank the protein shakes.

This same interaction repeated for about ten days. Whenever I was training, Cooper would come in and offer me a protein shake. While it seemed odd at first, before I knew it, it felt like second nature to drink one of Cooper’s shakes during a workout, and it seemed every other woman using the training room felt the same. I almost came to feel like I needed to drink his shakes as part of my routine.

However, one day, the shake tasted… off. Slightly salty, rather than the usual bland flavor I’d come to expect.

“Cooper?” I asked him as soon as I noticed. “Is there something different in today’s shake?”

He smiled at me. “I’m glad you asked! There’s a special ingredient in today’s batch: my semen.”

I froze for a split second and blinked. This was unorthodox, but… it wasn’t alarming. Semen was just another form of protein. I wish he’d have told me about this “special ingredient” beforehand, but I had to admit adding any flavor whatsoever made the protein shake more appetizing than usual.

“I see. Do all of these shakes have your semen in them?” I glanced around the training room. There were seven women besides me, all with protein shakes in their hands. None of the men had any, but that was only natural.

“Sure do! Dig in.”

Some part of me felt uncertain about this new development, but I was unable to ascertain the exact cause, and those feelings quieted by the next day.

After another week, every female footsoldier on the Athens was drinking daily semen shakes. Of course, there were too many of us for it all to be Cooper’s; he told us that other crewmates had voluntarily contributed, to make sure there was plenty of semen to go around.

The door to the training room closed behind me, leaving the Scarlet Hunter and the other girls behind to happily slurp up their servings of jizz.

The evidence was irrefutable. Using these implant “updates”, nothing was out of reach. Existing knowledge or logic didn’t matter—with time and patience, I could overwrite all of it. Two weeks ago, every woman in there would have been repulsed at the idea of “semen protein shakes”, but my “updates” had been able to gradually guide them to this point without fuss.

I’d also learned that, while it was impossible to target individuals with the “updates”, it was possible to selectively affect specific genders or staff roles. I’d set the “updates” to encourage women to drink the protein shakes while discouraging men, which worked flawlessly. Then, to convince other men to donate their semen to the cause, I’d merely upped their libido and told them Major Adams might drink it; it had been surprisingly easy.

I coincidentally crossed paths with Admiral Locke on the way to my quarters, and she subtly leered at me. I pretended not to notice, but internally, I was cackling. For all her pride and intellect, her skirt was just as short as everyone else’s. She showed off her thighs to every crewmember she passed, like a slutty schoolgirl, believing it to be the most natural thing in the world.

Everyone on this ship, including Catherine Locke and Samantha Adams, was in the palm of my hand… and they didn’t even know it.