The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive


Chapter 9: God of the Storm

Tomorrow would mark 10 days since the capture of Megan Summers. The man who had captured her was taking a look at his notes. Her progress had improved dramatically since the introduction of the Memory Modulator.

This result wasn’t entirely surprising, subjects with higher intelligences typically resisted his more common and newer devices. However, with the Modulator, their increased capacity to imagine was used against them.

Megan’s IQ was an impressive 136, which, while nowhere near the man’s own intelligence, certainly put her ahead of the curve. He thumbed through the file until he found a picture of Megan taken two days before her abduction. The man admired the picture silently, his thumb stroking across Megan’s cheek as though Megan was physically there, as opposed to the captured memory of her that the picture actually was.

The girl-next-door look was something Megan had exuded when the man had first met her. She was sad, but lovely. Lovely in a cute sort of way, rather than a sexy one. Her face was beautifully symmetrical, small upturned nose, cupid’s bow lips, and wide, almond-shaped eyes with brown orbs that seemed to twinkle with youth and vitality. She was perfect enough in that picture alone.

However, the man took out a second photo, taken yesterday, which showcased the remarkable change that had happened to Megan in so short a period of time. She was still the same girl as before in most respects, but the changes to her body were still striking enough that she was best described as resembling her former self.

Her eyes were the same as before, but had become just a tad wider. This was due to some permanent makeup that had been applied, complete with eye-liner. Also, her eyelids had been trimmed slightly, creating a wider revealed area when they weren’t closed, but with enough eyelid left that she could still shut both eyes completely.

Megan’s nose had stayed more-or-less the same, but the upturn of her nose’s bulb was reduced slightly, making the nose appear more button-like and less haughty. Her lips had also remained mostly untouched. Like the eyes, some permanent makeup had been applied in order to give her lips a fuller look. Additionally, her lips had been turned permanently pink, wet-looking, and glossy.

The bone structure in Megan’s face hadn’t changed much, but the removal of some of her “baby fat” from her cheeks had brought her cheekbones into prominence, complementing her tapered chin perfectly.

It was Megan’s body that had undergone the most distinctive transformation, however. Her chest had leveled out on a C or D cup, her hips had gained significant girth, transforming slender “boy” hips into the shapely hips of a female goddess. Megan’s butt had transformed proportionately, given greater volume and padding. Finally, she had, unknowingly, been wearing body-shapers in her unconscious periods, which had narrowed her waist to a tight corset size.

In short, she perfectly blended into her captor’s ideal woman. She was Megan, but not quite Megan... She was Megan perfected.

The man mused on this in silence for several moments, though how long was lost as time slipped out from beneath him. Before he knew it, the his reverie was broken by the sound of knocking at his door.

“Come in.” The man responded, his voice smooth and cool, calming.

The door opened and in stepped Juli, his bimbo nurse.

“The, um... like, Meg- Mega- Megs is ready for the final stage.” She said, beaming brightly, her clear blue eyes reflecting a sense of emptiness that perfectly reflected the vapid woman she had become.

Like Megan, Juli had not always been this way. Megan wasn’t even close to his first victim. The man knew that the papers were referring to him as “The Storm Hunter.” It was an apt name, since he did hunt, and he hunted exclusively during storms. However, he was not an opportunist as the media had so falsely described him as being. His strikes were surgical, carefully planned and researched. He didn’t merely wait for a storm in order to act, he knew everything there was to know about a victim before he ever paid attention to the weather reports.

When the Gifted had officially presented themselves as an organization over a century ago, the world changed. Of course, its fate had already been influenced and altered by the Gifted all along, with their members merely fleeting shadows, whispers and superstition. However, their official “coming out” had a domino effect, the consequences of which were still echoing over a century later.

Human trafficking, which had existed all along, supported in large part by the Gifted community, gained additional legitimacy. Strictly speaking, the trading of human lives as commodity was still an illegal practice for the most part. But with the Gifted located obscurely throughout the governments in the world, there had been little action against the largest suppliers, dealers, and acquirers.

The extent to which governments did react to human trafficking largely served two purposes: to reduce competition for the Gifted from the non-Gifted; and to give the veneer that something was being done about the problem.

Rivals arose from the ordinary masses of humans, challenging the talents of the Gifted by utilizing their own talents and skills to achieve similar results. These “faux” Gifted tended to come into conflict with Gifted organizations. However, for the sake of acceptance of the Gifted as the Illuminati of the world, they chose not to pursue all-out war with whom they considered their counterfeit copycats.

“Arthur, sir?” Juli’s voice was soft and quiet, as though she were a five year-old playing the whisper game. Still, it brought the man out of his memories and he smiled.

The nurse had approached his desk and was leaning over it, giving the man the perfect opportunity to gaze at the cleavage formed by her monstrous tits. Whereas Megan had simply gone up to an “above average” size, Juli’s were a ridiculous GG in size.

In another life, Juli had been a true nurse, rather than a parody of one. She had come across Arthur when he visited the hospital due to nearly slicing off his left index finger while preparing dinner. She was sweet and beautiful. Arthur decided he had to have her.

All of his targets prior were part of his black market business, where he utilized his genius intellect to combine psychology and technology in order to create “custom-made” women. There were generic models, women who had been captured and fitted with a template personality: cheerleader, hooker, and the ever popular housewife.

Juli struck Arthur in a different way. Yes, he could sense her vulnerability, a key to an easy and successful subject, but he wasn’t simply appraising her for her value for others. Rather, he found his thoughts delighting on images of her kneeling before him, her head bobbing; he saw images of turning her over and spanking her; and enjoyed images of watching her butt wriggle in a short nurse’s “uniform” dress as he did his work.

With patience and effort, he pulled the abduction off. Arthur was proven right about Juli’s vulnerabilities, she succumbed to his programming as fast as anyone ever had, perhaps she was the fastest of them all, but Arthur had performed thousands of transformations at this point, it was difficult to remember mundane details.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes, Juli.” Arthur replied at length. Juli gave him a confused look as she tilted her head. That’s right, she has no concept of time anymore. “I’ll come soon. OK?”

Juli smiled vapidly and nodded, “Yes, Mr. Arthurm sir. Yes, sir.”

Without a further moment, she’d turned and left him alone in his office. The initial use of his first name had not been worth arguing over. However, she’d used it again just moments ago. Perhaps something else would have to take care of her programming.

Finally standing up, Arthur approached the far wall of the room, right before a couple of displays, each of them covering a different angle of the room Megan was in. Arthur reached out and stroked her hair through the screen. She appeared to be sleeping, though she did a lot of light dozing as well, her vitals showing no sign of any actual sleep. At the moment, the sleep seemed genuine.

Megan appeared peaceful when tired, it was something that he was able to appreciate as he gazed at her curled up on her bed in a lilac nightgown that barely brushed her thighs.

Even though she had taken to the modifications of her memory well, she was still not quite where she needed to be. She was no longer trying to run whenever someone entered the room. She didn’t talk back, the snarky responses were mostly gone, and she was wearing the outfits provided for her. In spite of that progress, she seemed to have slumped into a depression. Microphones picked up her whispering in her half-sleep. She knew something was wrong, something was off.

It was Megan’s intelligence at work. She’d managed to put things together and, while it wasn’t enough to break her conditioning, it was an insidious problem, one that would make it difficult for her to perform the role that Arthur intended for her. She was only the second person that he found himself desiring to make and to keep, and he found himself wanting her far more than he’d ever wanted Juli.

Megan would be his perfect assistant. Beautiful, determined, devoted. She wouldn’t be the sort of stereotypical bimbo that Juli had become. Arthur had made a number of bimbos, a countless number of them, they were as popular a commodity as anything else. They were satisfying in many ways, but that satisfaction wore down with time.

Nevertheless, something had to be done about her intelligence. She might not have been close to rivaling Arthur, but her above average intelligence would interfere with her role as an obedient, no-questions-asked assistant. Arthur found that most of the women who went through his process had to have some sort of intelligence reduction, no matter how minor. Such a softening helped ease along obedience and submissive tendencies.

A voice picked up on the intercom.

“Mr. Arthur, sir?” Juli’s voice asked through the crackling speaker.

“Juli, you dimwitted cow, how many times do I have to tell you to refer to me the right way?” Arthur had depressed the call button to respond.

There was a pause and then, “I’m sorry, sir. I forgot, ummm, what am I , like, supposed to call you?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, then turned his attention back to the monitor even as he pushed down on the call button again.

“Dr. Meyers, slut. You call me Dr. Meyers.”

Finally, the man allowed himself a smile. It was time for Megan to go through her last transition. He had waited a long time for this moment.

Sometimes a storm took a long time to brew. The perfect storm was a once-in-a-lifetime event. Now it came all at once, rushing across the ocean to make itself known to the land.