The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Charles

I rubbed my eyes and sighed. It had been a long day. Endless meetings with near-corrupt officials and chronic ass-kissers. That’s what I get for working in government and trying to make a difference, right?

Having just ended my final call of the night, I sat unmoving in my office chair for a minute, doing my best to unknot the tension and stress weighing upon me.

I needed to unwind. Luckily, this was a home office. Turning my attention back to the monitor, I reconfirmed I had no remaining responsibilities until the morning, then navigated to one of my preferred porn sites.

Unlike many men, I didn’t consume much pornography in my youth. Rather, it was something I discovered in earnest as I matured, especially in recent years. While I was married, and our sex life was healthy enough when we were together, our careers as of late afforded precious little time to ourselves. Sometimes, weeks or even months would go by without any word from her. That was just the nature of the job. It didn’t change the depth of my love for her; in fact, I loved her because she was such a dutiful woman.

I didn’t have my mind set on any particular video tonight and found myself scrolling through the front page. However, on only the fourth row of videos, I froze.

The title of the video was “Admiral Locke Submissively SUCKS and FUCKS Subordinate”. The thumbnail depicted a beautiful if stern-looking woman dressed in formal all-white naval garb, including cap. Despite her aggressively nonsexual attire, one couldn’t help noticing the large swell of her chest; she was very well-endowed. This black-haired woman was kneeling before an unimpressive man who could charitably be described as “stout”. His fully erect penis was halfway in her mouth, with a skin-crawling grin on his face. As I moused over the video, the thumbnail updated to another screenshot of the man sucking on the woman’s now-bare tits.

My heartrate spiked as I clicked into the video. It had been uploaded quite recently, by a brand-new account. The number of views wasn’t huge yet, but the response in the comments was overwhelmingly positive.

I took a few minutes to scan through the footage, shaking my head and chuckling as I went. “Jeez, another one? And from the looks of it, they’re getting better and better all the time…”

This woman—“Admiral Locke”—was my wife. Or at least, the real Admiral Locke was. The woman on screen was no woman at all. She wasn’t even a person. This was blatantly an AI-generated video, the likes of which I’ve seen countless times over the years.

In modern times, this sort of thing came with the territory of being married to even a moderately famous figure. Anyone with enough time and money on their hands could easily create AI porn depicting any celebrity, living or dead, debauching themselves in any way imaginable. The tech was simple enough for even a teenager to learn. There’ve been occasional attempts to litigate AI porn out of existence, but its popularity made this impossible to enforce.

“This really is remarkably well-made…” I commented, as the man on screen railed “Admiral Locke” in the ass. Most AI porn is cheap and of relatively low quality, with obvious environmental mistakes that give it away. Someone spent big bucks on this; it practically looked real. It might even be using real human actors as a basis.

I’m sure Catherine didn’t see it this way, but personally I took stuff like this as a compliment. People found my wife attractive enough to make porn of her. It was direct proof that she was desired by the masses. It was almost empowering, as a man, to know that such a hot commodity was married to me.

Clicking back to the start of the video, I unzipped my pants, turned up the sound and rested my hand on my dick.

“Start with a blowjob”, the man on screen directed “Admiral Locke”. She meekly did as he commanded. Her head moved back and forth along his cock, just as my fingers moved up and down my own.

I’d never tell Catherine that I frequently jack off to these AI recreations of her. She wasn’t the type to take nudes, let alone record a sex tape, so it was the only form of intimacy I had with her on these long nights alone, while she was out saving the galaxy who knows where.

Plus, depending on the video, it let me fantasize about a different dynamic to our relationship. Catherine was actually quite dominant in bed. Never in my life had I enjoyed a scenario like what was unfolding on screen. I wouldn’t have married her if that was a dealbreaker for me, but sometimes it was fun to daydream about taking the lead for once.

The man in the video came inside “Admiral Locke’s” mouth, gripping the sides of her head as her throat bulged with swallowing motions. I scoffed again at the ridiculousness of it all, moving my hand even faster.

Samantha

“We need to talk.” Anthony Cooper seemed to blanch at the hard edge to my words, just as intended. Until proven otherwise, it was best to treat the Chief Engineer as a potential saboteur.

Cooper scratched the back of his neck, looking me up and down. Apparently coming to the correct conclusion that he would not be able to turn me away, he stepped out of the doorway and gestured into his quarters. “Of course. Come in, Major.”

The door automatically closed behind us. Cooper sat at his desk, swiveling the chair to face me. His demeanor was casual, though not exactly rude. “To what do I owe the pleasure at this hour, ma’am?”

As he asked, he did not meet my gaze. Rather, his eyes roamed all over my half-naked form. Good. A man’s rationality exists in direct proportion to his libido. The more aroused a man is, the less likely he will be able to focus on complex thought—and thus, the less likely he will be able to lie.

Cooper’s reaction to my appearance was anticipated. To facilitate exercise and semen extraction, the female jumpsuit was quite revealing. Most of my torso, shoulders and thighs were exposed, as well as my vagina and buttocks. Furthermore, I personally am extremely fit, my face is well-proportioned and my breasts, per my own observations, are amongst the largest of any woman currently aboard the Athens. I take no particular pride in this, but the fact was not lost on me that I would be considered conventionally attractive, perhaps even exceedingly so. At times, it was an inconvenience. At others, like tonight, it could be a powerful weapon.

“Chief Engineer. I recently paid a visit to the archives and encountered some curious information. Is there anything you would like to tell me?” I fired my opening salvo, giving him a chance to end this conversation early.

“I’m not sure I understand, Major. What information?” Sadly, his reply was cool and collected. If I truly did catch him off guard at the door, he appeared to have recovered.

It was hard to judge. Most personnel would be surprised by a late-night visit from the Scarlet Hunter. That alone was no proof of guilt. Cooper could be genuinely clueless—or he could be lying through his teeth. Only time will tell.

“Then allow me to be more specific.” Preparing myself for a lengthy chat, I placed a hand on Cooper’s desk, leaning forward to emphasize my breasts. While my jumpsuit prevented them from substantially moving or swaying, this action nonetheless put my ample cleavage in his direct line of sight.

Indeed, Cooper glanced at my chest for more than a moment in response. Perfect. I had him just where I wanted him. “There are multiple anonymous records of unauthorized network access and data uploads from the Athens, over a period of several months since our deployment to Zixue. Such access should have triggered automated alerts to you as Chief Engineer. The fact that you did not in turn forward these alerts up the chain of command implies you either did not receive them… or you are withholding information from your superiors.”

For the first time, Cooper’s eyes flicked up to meet my own. I continued. “So I ask again: is there anything you would like to tell me?” I put all the power of my position and reputation into my words. While intimidation was not my preference, the weight of the situation called for it.

Cooper’s expression hardened and back straightened, realizing the gravity of this conversation. I had just implied, to his face, that he was suspected of treason. Depending on what he did next, I was fully prepared for a physical altercation.

However, he merely took a deep breath and, with a steady tone, replied, “I understand your concerns, Major. This sounds like a very serious security breach, but I’ve received no network alerts since our departure from Zixue.”

There were no obvious signs of nervousness in his face or body language. Mild surprise, perhaps, but again, that wasn’t direct proof. If he truly was innocent and this was new information to him, surprise was warranted.

I was not about to simply take Cooper at his word—not yet, with the entirety of the Athens at stake. I had to be decisive; if Cooper was uninvolved, every second I spent here was a second that the true perpetrator was walking free elsewhere.

I circled the desk, approaching the Chief Engineer. As I walked, I swayed my hips more than usual, doing my best to subtly draw his attention. Once in front of him, I shifted my body left-to-right for good measure. His eyes followed my breasts.

This was working, but visual stimulation could only go so far. I needed him more turned on. “Cooper, I realize this may sound sudden, but may I extract your semen while we converse?”

“I—ma’am? Don’t you think that’s a little—” His mouth tried to refuse, but his eyes were less certain.

“Please. I insist.” As I spoke, I sat in his lap, straddling him. My bust—still half-covered by my jumpsuit—was shoved in his face, practically touching his nose. At my crotch, I felt a bump pressing into me, his manhood aching to be freed of its cloth constraints.

Cooper fidgeted, but didn’t seem uncomfortable. If anything, he appeared to be suppressing a smile. “... Very well, ma’am. You can have my semen.” As planned, he assented. I’d seen it countless times in recent weeks as I extracted semen from various crewmates. With just a little pressure, men like Cooper easily agree to sex.

I lifted myself just enough to fish his penis out of his pants, then placed my vagina over his tip. He was extremely erect. “Major? N-no condom?” Cooper asked. Under normal circumstances, that would be a fair question. However, these were anything but. Semen extraction was a side-effect, not the goal. I needed to flood his mind with pleasure, until he was too overwhelmed to think straight. Any impediment to that end must be discarded.

“No. I will squeeze the semen out of my vagina and collect it for consumption later.” Without waiting for his response, I slid onto his penis, taking the Chief Engineer deep inside me. I was not eager to have unprotected intercourse with a man for the first time under these conditions, but my duty to the fleet was paramount.

“Oh…” Cooper immediately moaned. I tensed my pelvic muscles, gripping his shaft as tightly as possible. I had orally extracted from him in the past, but this would be his first experience having sex with me. I’ll have to make it one to remember.

Starting slow but moving as sensually as possible, I began Cooper’s semen extraction. As I bucked my hips, his hands found my waist before slowly working backward to my behind. An uninhibited smile finally reached his lips, and he thrust his face into the valley of my cleavage.

Now, with Cooper’s brain fried by sexual excitement, we could return to business. “Let me be blunt. Were you in any way aware of or complicit in this unauthorized access, Chief Engineer?”

With a noticeable touch of reluctance, he raised his head away from my bosom. “No, ma’am. I had no prior knowledge of any such incidents, and would have reported them if I did.”

I almost grit my teeth. Still, despite this level of stimulation, he denied all involvement. Perhaps Cooper was telling the truth. I was still not yet prepared to believe him, but I may be forced to if he withstands my next onslaught.

Technically, an interrogation like this was outside the scope of my responsibilities. However, the irrefutable truth of the data logs was that someone was improperly using our network. It was important to keep in mind that Catherine raised her concerns to me specifically. For trivial matters, she had a host of other subordinates to delegate to. She came to me because she trusted me, as a sister and a friend, to be discreet, investigating outside the bounds of standard procedure. It wasn’t wise to formally report anything until I had concrete details, preferably a firm suspect. Any organization-level movements might tip off the perpetrator.

Therefore, I couldn’t afford to be complacent. Right now, I had to do everything in my power to confirm Cooper’s involvement or lack thereof. He needed even more sexual pleasure. I reached up and pulled off my top, tossing it to the side. My breasts, unrestrained at last, spilled out onto either side of his head.

Cooper’s eyes bulged and smile widened, but I did not relent in my questioning. “Is it not your responsibility to be aware of intrusions as part of your engineering duties?”

His hands retracted from my lower body and reached upward, now massaging my naked bust. “I’m afraid not. I fix technical problems as they arise, but preemptive security monitoring is handled by a series of policies and AIs dictated by the Navy as a whole. May I suck on these?”

The unrelated final question implied the security breach was not currently on the forefront of his mind. Even so, his answer was confident—and unfortunately, he was right. It’s not part of his duties to catch malicious users, and the core systems architecture of the Athens was shared across all Unified Nations vessels. As an individual, he had neither the power nor the means to alter it.

“Go ahead.” I gave Cooper permission, and his mouth gleefully covered one of my nipples. I felt his tongue licking aggressively. Paired with the slight pull of his lips as he sucked, the sensation was surprisingly pleasant.

At the same time, his penis pulsed inside me. Despite the growing possibility that Cooper was a dead end, I resolved to see this through to the end. I jerked my pelvis, bringing his entire length inside me, before bringing the full force of my powerful legs to bear. I rode Cooper hard, my breasts tethered all the while by his hands and lips. Looking down at the man, his expression was one of pure euphoria. Anything he said now had to be the truth.

“This will be the final time I ask,” I made one more attempt, mentally acknowledging it was likely futile. “You have absolutely no information to share related to unlawful use of military assets?”

“None whats- ah…” As he was speaking, a moan interrupted his words. His face relaxed and body shuddered. I knew very well had transpired; he was having an orgasm. His penis bulged, filling my insides with his semen.

I slowed myself but did not stand up, waiting for Cooper to recover. After a few seconds to catch his breath, he managed to mutter, “N-none whatsoever, Major.”

Damn it. As expected. Frankly, I was not surprised. On a certain level, I trusted Cooper. While he and I were not terribly close, at a distance he had always seemed to be a model engineer. His record was spotless and his professional reputation amongst his engineering peers was strong. He had also been the sole individual to provide female soldiers with semen shakes, prior to the widespread adoption of semen extraction.

I stepped off of Cooper, squashing my thighs together to prevent his semen from leaking out of me. Cooper himself remained seated in a state of partial undress, looking up at the ceiling and breathing deeply. Whether he had overexerted himself or was simply enjoying the lingering pleasure of his extraction, I could not say.

“Ma’am…” The Chief Engineer was the first to break the silence. “It’s not impossible that a technically proficient individual could have accessed our network and suppressed the automated alerts in one fell swoop.”

To be honest, I’d had similar suspicions. I visited Cooper tonight out of due diligence, but knew he was unlikely to be the culprit. His history of personal and professional loyalty spoke for itself. However, it was still not wise to divulge details of my investigation to him. I decided to only vaguely affirm his speculation. “Perhaps. Regardless, be aware that my findings will be reported to Admiral Locke. What happens next is her call.”

Cooper’s eyes dropped from the ceiling to my near-naked body. “Of course, Major,” he nodded knowingly. “That’s only the right thing to do.”

His agreeability further cemented my opinion of his moral standing. Even knowing it may cause my sister to suspect him, he made no attempt to prevent me from informing her. Cooper was willing to risk his personal safety for the sake of duty and procedure. It was a commendable decision, one I would not let go unrewarded.

Before leaving Cooper to his business, I requisitioned one of his cups as a semen receptacle. As a woman of her word, I collected his ejaculate from my vagina and drank it heartily.

Catherine

“This is extremely troubling, Samantha.” My eyes scanned the terminal, scarcely believing what I was reading. Early this morning, my sister—Major Adams—had knocked on my door with a grave expression. Unfortunately, her tidings were just as grave. “This isn’t just a one-off occurrence. Someone’s been frequently accessing the network behind our backs.” It had been happening for months… Christ.

Samantha frowned but said nothing, waiting for me to collect myself. “You did well to find this so quickly,” I managed to compliment her, and I meant it. I’d come to her with vague worries, no more than a “bad feeling”, and she’d come back with tangible evidence of wrongdoing. She never let me down.

“Just doing my job, ma’am,” she remarked without a shred of hubris. I nodded, my mind already focused on working out all the possible scenarios. It goes without saying that an intrusion of this magnitude was very bad news. Worst case, Imperial forces were aware of our every move. But if that were true… we should have seen something by now.

Our personnel were top-class, but the true power of the Athens was its secretive nature, outfitted with cutting-edge stealth and thruster tech. If they knew our location or even our destination at any point in recent weeks, it’s odd that we haven’t suffered any loss of combat effectiveness. While we’ve yet to undertake a major offensive since Zixue, we have deployed a handful of times to tip the scales in small skirmishes. At no point did I feel our appearance on the battlefield was anticipated. There were no suspicious ambushes, nor even a significant misestimation of hostile forces.

Was this truly the work of an Imperial spy? Or was there something else at play here? “You’re sure Cooper is clean?” I asked. Under normal circumstances, the Chief Engineer would have been alerted to any breaches. Multiple signs pointed to Anthony Cooper—at least as an accomplice, if not the main responsible party. Of course, Samantha would be well aware of that.

“I am. I interrogated him thoroughly and am confident he is innocent.” Unfortunately, she unambiguously dashed my hopes, and I trusted her wholeheartedly. I had no love for the man, but if she was certain that Cooper was uninvolved, I’d have to turn my attention elsewhere… at least until I had reason to think otherwise.

“Should I inform the engineers to lock down network access?” Samantha inquired. I steepled my hands, thoroughly weighing the pros and cons, before voicing my decision. “No. For now, we’ll let things proceed normally. Any overt action might cause the offender to go to ground. We need to work swiftly but carefully to find and apprehend them, before they realize we’re aware of their presence.”

Samantha smiled, apparently approving. “Agreed, Catherine.”

In my peripheral vision, I saw the two of us reflected in my cabin mirror. She in her bright pink jumpsuit, showing off much of her muscular body, and I in the miniskirt, heels and half-open jacket befitting a female commanding officer. The sight put me at ease. We had been deployed in tandem for years now. We were two of the navy’s best, even heroes to some. I had no doubt that, together, we would prevail, just as we always have.

My fingers raced across the keyboard, making final adjustments to my next batch of “updates”. I glanced again at the terminal, confirming the serial number listed on-screen. The targeted group of neural implants was substantially smaller than usual—just one, in fact.

Until recently, this would have been impossible. I could tailor my implant “updates” to specific departments, like field or bridge personnel, but targeting a single individual required either physical access to their implant or some digital identifier. The former was risky, but the latter…

I knew my illegal network access would be logged to the archives. It was unavoidable. As Chief Engineer, I could suppress the resulting alerts, but the complexity of our systems made it extremely difficult to remove all traces of my intrusion. However, while I couldn’t remove the logs themselves, I could bind them to additional executables. On the Athens, all terminal access is tied to one’s neural implant. Any attempt to view encrypted files would trigger an automatic handshake process, wherein the user’s implant credentials are scanned to verify proper access. I could make use of that handshake to insert a small, nearly innocuous piece of malware into the recipient’s neural implant. This virus would send me the build details of any afflicted implant, then self-delete.

In effect, I would be notified as soon as someone views my incriminating logs. Not only that, I would have their implant serial number, which would allow me to send “updates” to that specific individual. It was killing two birds with one stone.

Despite these preparations, I was nervous when I first got pinged about someone accessing the logs. I probably had a little time before they zeroed in on the specific evidence of my infiltration, but someone would only be looking at those logs if they already suspected something was amiss. To make matters worse, the implant serial number didn’t actually tell me who was viewing the logs; it was merely a 32 digit number, with corresponding personnel connections kept so secure even I couldn’t hack into them.

However, I could access that person’s brain chemistry. Thanks to unique biological identifiers, I learned the crewmate accessing the logs was female. From there, I sent her a rapid series of specialized “updates”. First, I tried to embed an implicit trust of me, Anthony Cooper, into her mind. It wasn’t a particularly strong trust, just enough to give me the benefit of the doubt. Even so, depending on the person and her original feelings toward me, her brain might outright reject such a blunt “update”. Thankfully, according to her biometric data, it went through without issue. Whoever she was, she must have felt at least indifferent towards me. That ruled out any chance it was Catherine.

Second, I fostered the notion that men are, shall we say, simple-minded. Even in today’s society, there’s a certain stereotype that all men are horndogs. Most rational women know this to be false, but they’re still aware of the stereotype—and recent experiences aboard the Athens would hardly disprove it. Our whole male crew still had an increased sex drive due to my “updates”; literally every woman onboard was having sex daily, usually initiated by men. With that foundation, I was able to cultivate a truly absurd belief: the best way to get a man to tell the truth is with sex. The hornier a man is, the less he thinks and the more he acts. Just as I’d done from the very beginning, my “updates” took an idea with a nugget of reality and spun it into a full-fledged delusion—but one this woman would believe without question.

I also attempted a third set of “updates”, encouraging her not to divulge anything she learned from the logs to anyone else until she spoke with me. However, this went through so easily that it must have already been her plan

After that, all I could do was wait. I still didn’t know who she was, but sooner or later my mysterious investigator would confront me—and I was confident I’d be able to talk my way out of it. Events then transpired exactly as predicted, even if I was admittedly surprised when Samantha Adams herself appeared on my doorstep.

My hands stopped typing. The “update” on-screen was ready to go, although the Major would not be the recipient. “Mm…” I sat back, groaning in pleasure.

Five days have passed since my “interrogation”. Adams—Samantha—had come so close to discovering the truth. One misstep on my part and I might be behind bars right now. Instead…

I glanced under the desk. Seated on the floor, completely naked and passionately kissing my cock, was the Scarlet Hunter herself. Her gargantuan hooters wrapped around my shaft, practically obscuring it entirely, as her mouth and tongue caressed my tip. She had the perfect physicality and flexibility for this; only a minority of women could accomplish a simultaneous titfuck and blowjob.

After my name had been “cleared”, I saddled Samantha with some additional “updates”. Nothing extreme, just further strengthening her desire for semen, plus a fondness for my semen over anyone else’s. By now, I usually fucked her two or three times a day. She’d drop anything she’s doing to suck me off whenever or wherever I asked.

It was a wonderful development, but Samantha was just a nice bonus on the way to my real goal—one she had delivered straight to my lap. As she said she would, Major Adams passed along the logs of my escapades to Admiral Locke. In turn, the serial number for an implant I knew was Catherine’s appeared in my inbox. No longer was I bound by the need to give vague “updates” to a large group of people. I still had to keep the “updates” “logical”, to avoid their subconsciouses rejecting anything, but as of now… the heroine sisters, both Catherine Locke and Samantha Adams, were finally under my direct control.

I almost cackled. Admiral Locke, famed as one of the greatest minds in the fleet, yet completely clueless to her own brainwashing. And the Scarlet Hunter, feared across the galaxy, victor of a hundred battlefields?

I flicked Samantha’s nipples. She yelped in pleasure, her voice muffled by my dick. She’ll never know how close she came to exposing my entire operation, that she’s sucking the dick of the man enslaving herself and her sister.

Returning my attention to the terminal, I made one last pass of my code. Sadly, it was impossible to tell Catherine to just “trust me” like I did with Samantha. Catherine’s a bit sharper and her personal dislike for me is too profound. Still, I think I’ve identified a path forward.

Satisfied, I sent the “update” to Catherine’s neural implant. A moment later, the Scarlet Hunter’s face and tits were splattered with my semen.

Catherine

Spreading my limbs to hide as little as possible, I twirled around my pole with rapid, confident movements. My tits and ass bounced with perfect synchronicity, displaying a skill and intensity that only comes with hours of practice. As every night, countless subordinates joyfully beheld my dance, hands on their dicks and grins on their faces. Their eyes felt so good. I was the center of their world. They lapped up every glimpse of my flesh, every slight jiggle and subtle curve. I didn’t consider myself an egotistical woman, but it was only natural to enjoy being desired. There was no shame in knowing one’s attractiveness. If anything, in this situation, all these eyes upon me—all these men orgasming from my body—were proof of my efficacy as both a leader and sexual processor. They were something to be proud of.

Scanning the mess hall tables, each and every processor displayed a similar level of proficiency. Once, we had been awkward and inexperienced, barely managing to walk in these heels without tripping. However, even the most inept among us was bound to improve with the daily frequency of crew-wide sexual processing.

Some nights, certain processors even took it upon themselves to have more intimate interactions with the crowd. I noticed Lieutenant Gonzalez in a corner, giving a lap dance to a data analyst. He was groping her rather forcefully, but Gonzalez did not appear to mind. Several other men surrounded her lap dance, stroking themselves at the sight.

There was no problem with a processor being more direct, as long as it was consensual to all parties. Personally, however, I was more than happy to relieve my crew from a distance. As the highest-ranked officer on this ship, it was important to uphold my image as someone above the average soldier. Hierarchies were crucial in military organizations, and I could not afford to be too friendly.

Of course, the sole, sickening exception was Anthony Cooper. Sighing as the allotted hour for crew-wide processing came to an end, I prepared myself for Cooper’s individual processing. Tonight, he had not requested I wear any particular outfit, so I changed to my standard uniform and arrived at his quarters within minutes.

When I knocked, there was an unusually long silence. Typically, Cooper would open the door after only a few moments. Tonight, I waited for twenty, then thirty seconds. Just as I was about to knock again…

“Sorry for the wait, Catherine. Was on the toilet.” The door opened, and Cooper appeared, clothed but looking ever so slightly more disheveled than usual. I raised an eyebrow, but “Come in, come in” was all he said in response.

Following Cooper inside, I swear I heard a tiny, nearly imperceptible noise, like the buzzing of a bee. Before I could say anything, Cooper turned his terminal screen in my direction, granting me access to view its contents at the same time. Pictured on screen was a pornographic website and several videos. Each of the thumbnails pictured me engaged in a sexually explicit act with an unknown man, dressed in a variety of embarrassing attire.

Of course, these were the recordings of our past several nights of sexual processing. The day after we initially recorded ourselves, Cooper applied for a network access exception to upload these videos to the public web. Naturally, I granted his request. I had agreed to these recordings in the first place with the understanding that they would be widely viewed, as a form of mass sexual processing. (The “unknown man” in each video was an AI alteration of Cooper; he wished to protect his identity and I saw no reason to argue.)

Looking at the numbers listed below each thumbnail, it was no exaggeration to say that they had in fact been “widely viewed”. I couldn’t help getting a little hotter, thinking about all the people that had watched me have sex. This actually eased the pain of processing Cooper; my efforts would no longer benefit him alone.

“Why are you showing this to me, Anthony?” I was grateful for the knowledge of my success, but failed to see why it was especially relevant.

“Why do you think?” He answered my question with a question. I rolled my eyes at the impertinence, but decided to indulge him. Looking back at the screen, there was only one real observation to be made: the view counts of our two most recent videos were noticeably lower than the rest, even accounting for the fact that they’d had less time to garner said views.

“The videos are becoming less popular…” I commented.

“Exactly,” Cooper confirmed. “I wasn’t sure you would mind either way, but felt it best not to make assumptions and bring it to your attention.”

For once, Cooper had made the correct call. I did mind, very much so. Sexual processing was important. As we have seen on the Athens, sexual release substantially improved one’s mental health. The more people see (and masturbate to) my videos, the better the mental health of the general public will be. Obviously I don’t expect to personally effect widespread change, but some relief is always better than none at all.

However, my efforts were now meeting resistance. Viewership is flagging. Why? There are several possible explanations, but the most reasonable to me was the difference in scale. Until now, I had only processed Cooper and a handful of crewmembers, while my audience online—per these metrics—numbered in the thousands.

“How would you like to proceed, Catherine?” Cooper interrupted my thoughts, voicing the question I was about to ask myself. For one man, daily sexual processing was sufficient. However, recorded videos are impersonal; there is no guarantee that a viewer will check in at the same time every day, nor that that day’s particular video will satisfy his cravings.

On top of that… most of these videos were fairly short, only five to ten minutes. It was mildly horrifying that I was familiar enough with Cooper’s body to say this, but I knew he could last longer, especially since he cums twice in these videos. Had this been intentional, to drive me into this position? But what choice did I have?

Less than thrilled by my conclusions but too responsible to stay silent, I spoke. “These recent view numbers aren’t acceptable. To curb their decline, I suggest a two-pronged approach. First, the videos need to be longer. We should allow your processing to last for a predetermined length of time, rather than a number of ejaculations.”

“Makes sense,” Cooper agreed, smirking. The bastard was enjoying this, as expected.

That almost made me falter before voicing my next suggestion, but I pushed ahead. “Second… I believe the videos need to be uploaded more frequently. More frequent uploads would have a greater chance of reaching the right people.”

“Are you implying…?” Cooper began a question but didn’t finish. I’m sure he wanted to hear me say it.

Refusing to let him shame me, I continued. “Yes. This would entail your own sexual processing occurring more than once a day. Do you have any issue with that, Chief Engineer?” Of course he wouldn’t, but I maintained my excessively polite professionalism. Cooper would not drag me down to his level.

“Not at all, Catherine, not at all!” At that, he stood and took a step towards me. “We can decide on the details tomorrow, but I’m happy to start with twice a day. Maybe thirty minutes per session?”

My eyebrow twitched. That was a bit longer than I’d planned to suggest, but… I found myself without room to argue. Several of Cooper’s past sessions, prior to being filmed, had already taken thirty minutes, so I could hardly pretend that it would be a strain on my schedule.

The thought had crossed my mind of using a different male subordinate for additional videos, rather than multiple sessions with Cooper, but I wasn’t fully comfortable having sex with even more men. Cooper, for better or worse, was a known quantity and I was already duty-bound to process him daily. I knew I could deal with Cooper; he was frustrating but predictable. It was impossible to say for certain if another man would be the same.

“Very well. With that aside, shall we begin tonight’s sexual processing?” I began to disrobe, eager to get this over with.

“Uh, just one more minute.” Cooper held up his hand to stop me. “I had a couple of my own observations on the videos. They’re minor points, but I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Fine,” I muttered, my jacket already fully unbuttoned. “Speak.”

Cooper clasped his hands together, looking me dead in the eye. “I agree it would be helpful to upload more videos and longer videos, but I also think there’s an issue of temperament.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ve watched them back, all of them, and there are always these moments where you… pause. Like you’re second-guessing things, not fully committing to the role. Viewers will pick up on that and get turned off. They want to believe in the fantasy of what they’re watching.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but stopped before saying a word. Cooper wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t watched any of the videos myself, but I didn’t doubt that my “performance” had cracks. I wasn’t an actor. I hated processing Cooper—and I hated the submissive personas he forced me to take on. But… that’s what people want. People wanted to lose themselves in videos like ours. Anything which disrupts the illusion is a problem.

“What would you have me do?” I queried.

“Nothing in particular, really. Just keep the viewer in mind going forward. As long as the camera is on, stay in character no matter what.”

As long as the camera is on, stay in character no matter what. A simple rule, but one which would undoubtedly boost our videos’ effectiveness. I’ll admit the rationale was reasonable.

“I’ll do my utmost,” I assured him. “Now, how would you like to be processed tonight?” This conversation had gone on for long enough already.

Cooper rubbed his chin for a second, then snapped his fingers. I’m sure it was all a show, and he knew what he wanted tonight from the moment I walked in. “First, get naked.”

Unsurprised, I wordlessly stripped, while Cooper actually turned away to rummage through his desk. Just as I removed my underwear, he pulled out a minuscule camera and pinned it to his shirt.

Turning back to face me, he said, “Tonight, I was thinking we’d do it somewhere a little more… public.” Fully naked now, my heart rate spiked. Was he truly suggesting what I thought he was?

“Let’s fuck on the bridge. I’ll record it with this little guy.” He tapped the camera on his chest.

“You can’t be serious.” That was all I could manage to say.

While my uniform for crew-wide sexual processing was revealing by design, it still afforded a bare minimum of privacy. Neither my nipples nor genitals had ever been directly visible. To this day, Cooper was the only crewmate who had seen every part of my body. If I walked out the door naked like this—and had sex with Cooper in plain sight—it would be crossing a line from which I could never return.

It’s not as if my crew would be mortified. Most men and women of the Athens had already had public sex at some point due to semen extraction, including Samantha. However, personally, it went against every fiber of my being. The crew may not mind, but I would. At the same time, nothing was more important than making Anthony Cooper cum. I was his sexual processor. If he demanded this of me, I would not be able to decline.

“Anthony, I don’t—” Paying no heed to my beginnings of an objection, Cooper strode past me through the door, leaving me alone in his quarters.

A few seconds passed in silence. Balling my hands into fists—“Fuck”—I charged out after him.

Another male engineer (Sakamoto, I believe was his name) passed by as I stepped into the hallway. His eyes widened with surprise, but he promptly stood tall and saluted. “Ma’am.” I saluted back, spotting Cooper further down the hallway. He was walking with purpose towards the bridge, assuming I would follow without even looking back to check. Asshole.

In that moment it took to find the Chief Engineer, Sakamoto was already staring at my bare breasts. A heat grew in my core. I tried to ignore it. Covering myself with my hands as best I could, I hurried after Cooper.

“You made it,” came Cooper’s sardonic comment once I reached his side. I didn’t respond, not trusting myself to bear this indignity without profanity. Undeterred, Cooper’s hand gripped my ass as we walked. I wanted to vomit.

His fingers wriggling like worms against my skin, Cooper whispered in my ear, “Why don’t we begin now, start by filming our walk? We won’t actually fuck until the bridge, but it’ll give the viewer some buildup before jumping straight in.”

I frowned, but seriously contemplated the proposal. While the walk to the bridge from the engineers’ quarters wasn’t terribly long, every minute we spent filming the walk is one less minute I have to actually have sex with Cooper.

We passed another soldier, this time a woman. She too was clearly taken aback by my nudity, but said nothing.

That was the other angle to consider: the potential damage to my public image. If we started filming, Cooper would doubtless request that I play some ridiculous character. I shuddered at the thought of “begging” to suck his cock in front of respected colleagues. But—was that not an illusion of choice? Even if I refused him now, by the time we reached the bridge, we would start filming anyway. The bridge was a marginally less public setting, but either way it would be a humiliating experience.

The decision was obvious then. “Do it,” I spat. Then, in a plainly pleased tone, Cooper explained my “character” for his processing, “Tonight, you’ll act like a nymphomaniac. You’ll be crazy for sex, and especially crazy for my dick. You’re also unashamed for everyone to see; in fact, you love to be seen.” I nodded sharply once he was done. That was about what I’d expected

“I’m going to turn the camera on then. Are you ready?”

I took a deep breath, mentally forcing my hands to my sides, no longer covering any part of me. In mere moments, there would be no room for modesty. Then—“I’m ready.”

Cooper tapped the camera and a tiny red light blinked on. Like a switch was flipped, I grabbed his arm and pulled him close, squirming my body against his. “Mr. Cooper, sir… please, oh please, won’t you fuck me? I can’t stop thinking about your cock…” It had gone unsaid, but it was always implied that I should act submissive during Cooper’s processing unless I’m specifically told otherwise. My voice was also an octave higher than usual. It was a call I made on the fly, seeming fitting for the role.

“Be patient, Catherine,” he chided me. We kept walking, but he raised his other hand (the first still on my ass) to fondle my chest before pulling me in for a long kiss.

“Mm…” I moaned, in mock pleasure, stroking his crotch over his pants. “That was wonderful, sir, but you know I want more.”

We kept up in this way as we approached the bridge. I pleaded with Cooper for sex as he repeatedly spurned my advances, all the while barely keeping his hands off me. Altogether, we passed perhaps twenty crewmates on the way. Two couples were engaged in sexual processing themselves, but the rest appeared to be on business. To their credit, each and every one of them acted professionally as they walked by, although there was no hiding their shock to see me in this state. True to my character, whenever someone drew near, I made a show of it—arching my back to show off my tits, lifting a leg to expose my pussy, and so on. Until I was out of sight, their eyes took in everything. With every look, the fire inside me grew stronger. I could feel my face was beet-red from embarrassment, but I also—started getting wet.

Eventually, after approximately six minutes of filming, we entered the bridge. At any time, at least a dozen people were on-staff here. Tonight, there were fourteen. Only a few were permanent “bridge personnel”—that is, sexual processors like me. The rest were here for temporary, interim tasks.

All fourteen sets of those eyes turned to face Cooper and I—though especially me. I wished I could explain the situation, tell them this was just Cooper’s sexual processing, but the camera was on. For the sake of everyone watching this video in the future, I had to stay in character.

So, instead, I spun around to face Cooper, rubbing my pussy against the tent in his pants. “We’re on the bridge, Mr. Cooper. I was patient, just like you told me to. Fuck me, now, please!” I sounded petulant and pathetic, like a child who’d been promised candy.

“Almost.” Cooper brushed me off and walked to the captain’s chair, sliding a finger along the armrest before looking back at me. “I’d like to sit here. May I?”

The chair was a symbol of absolute authority and prestige. Officially, only I—captain of the Athens—was ever allowed to sit upon it. That said, it was frankly one of the lesser naval regulations. There were no particular penalties associated with breaking it, as long as you had said captain’s permission.

“Yes! Just hurry up!” Both in character and out, my patience was running thin.

Chuckling, Cooper dropped his pants (leaving his shirt with the camera) and sat his bare cheeks upon the chair. His penis sprang up, ready and waiting for my embrace.

“Sit here,” he said, patting on his lap. “Face outward.”

My heart froze, but my body didn’t. In fact, I practically leapt onto Cooper. His cock slid into me without resistance as I squealed in ecstasy. “Oh, Mr. Cooper, thank you! I’m a hungry little slut… I can’t go a single day without your dick!”

Not even able to see his face, I rode Cooper. Everyone on the bridge was staring at me. My tits flopping, hips moving, mouth half-open from joy and lust. I was so hot. It felt incredible, and that was no act.

It was too much.

“A-ah-ahhhh!”

I came. I came, from Cooper’s dick, in what I’m sure was less than a minute of penetration.

I didn’t have the time or energy to care. My hips didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Cooper pawed at my tits from behind. My head tilted back as I moaned, loudly and without restraint. There was no dignity whatsoever to my appearance, but I knew my subordinates would understand the duty of a sexual processor. They must. Many, even most, had seen me during crew-wide sexual processing.

Refocusing on the world around me, I realized my crew had done far more than understand. Several of the men had lost their pants, enlisting nearby women for semen extraction. Some kept watching me, remaining seated as a female comrade sucked them off. Others transitioned into full-blown sex themselves, pinning a woman against the wall or over a console as their cocks pistoned in and out.

My solitary moan became a chorus, joined by almost everyone on the bridge. Before long, Cooper’s dick convulsed, spewing its seed inside me. There were still fifteen minutes of filming to go, at least. This was sure to be his first of multiple orgasms tonight.

My vision again took in the image of the bridge before me. Behind the dozen or so intertwined bodies of men and women, the main viewport set a wide backdrop of innumerable stars, twinkling in the endless darkness. Staring into the vast blackness of space, it was almost as if time began to slow. I felt… something, barely a feeling, stirring at the edge of my mind.

My sister and I complemented each other well. While she was hardly dim, Samantha was a straightforward person, most renowned for her formidable combat prowess. On the other hand, my own greatest strength was my intellect. At times it was a curse; on some level I couldn’t stop thinking, even when my conscious mind was preoccupied.

This was one such moment. Bubbling up in this fraction of a second, the events of recent months raced through my mind, chasing a connection I wasn’t even sure existed. Cooper’s escalating sexual processing. The rise of casual semen extraction aboard the Athens. The success of crew-wide sexual processing. The network logs uncovered by Samantha’s investigation, which had yet to be resolved. A report that had once crossed my desk, titled—

Cooper abruptly grabbed my neck, pulling me backward into a kiss. My tongue happily wrestled his (per my character, of course). “Oh, Mr. Cooper! Don’t stop, don’t stop!” I yelled—or tried to. With Cooper sucking my tongue, it came out more like a series of unintelligible moans.

All the while, his cock kept pounding my pussy. My hips moved even harder and faster, drowning in the nonstop, overwhelming pleasure. Whatever had been almost on my mind, I’d already forgotten entirely.

“Ah…” I laid face-down across my bed, satisfied with another glorious night of “sexual processing”. This was the beginning of the end for Catherine. For a whole thirty minutes tonight, she’d been my personal slut—and she’d already agreed to another thirty minutes tomorrow morning, and every morning thereafter. As long as I filmed our rendezvous, she was at my beck and call, more concerned with helping internet strangers jack off than her personal pride or well-being. And for the full duration of her career as a porn star, I would be her sole partner—thanks to my “updates”, obviously.

I thought back to Catherine shaking her tits at her scantily-clad subordinates in the hallway. That look in her eyes was priceless. She’d been drenched, her pussy begging for dick, when I finally fucked her. I’d also used my “updates” to install a touch of exhibitionism in her, which was clearly effective. As with the previous masochism “update”, I didn’t want to go overboard. It wasn’t enough to actually override her embarrassment, but it did make the eyes of others feel good. I’m sure that was another reason she was so willing to upload more videos, even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself.

Despite the odyssey I’d just been through, I felt my little man stiffen again from the memories of Catherine debasing herself. Before long, I’d be able to call upon Catherine herself to relieve me, no matter the hour… but for now, I’d have to make do with an alternative.

Working off my pants and making my way to the bathroom, I opened the door. Sitting on my toilet was a nude blonde woman. Her limbs were bound in a tight frog-tie, forcing her legs bent at the knee, while a bulbous, solid black helmet covered her eyes and ears. Such helmets were commonly used for transporting prisoners of war; anyone wearing one could neither see nor hear. The woman’s nose and below were exposed, but her mouth was open wide, filled with a red ball gag. At her crotch, two purple vibrating dildos were stuffed deep into her ass and pussy. Just above them, another smaller vibrator was taped over her clitoris, jittering violently. A river of fluid gushed from her vagina, and a similar stream of drool leaked from her mouth, flowing just past the beauty mark on her chin.

Walking up to the woman, I reached behind her head to undo the gag. While it fell to the floor, her mouth stayed open, as if waiting for something. In fact, that’s exactly what she was doing. She had come so far so fast.

I prodded her lip with my cock. Naturally, even automatically, Samantha Adams turned her head and began to suck.