The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Hi there, My name is Olivia, Olivia Sabre. Weird name, huh? Well, that’s not even my real name. My one and only true name is Olivia Alexandria Zoldrago. Even more weird, huh? Tell me about it—it’s a burden- takes forever to sign. Olivia is cute, I could live with Alexandria too but Zoldrago?? Son of Serpent? Well, it meant exactly that in the lost language of Ko founded about 8000 years ago somewhere near Persia.We Did change the meaning to Son of Dragon with time—just to save face, but still, horrible name.

Hmm, it’s about 08:30, and I have a class to attend, so I will tell my story as I go. So why does a cute girl like me even have an undercover name? That’s because of my weird family. Zoldragos are doctors—the whole lot of them—every single one of them and they are damned good- Dr. Strange good. Well, that kinda happens when you have centuries worth of medical knowledge crammed into your brains. You see the Zoldrago family started about 8000 years ago- and guess what they were probably the first doctors- playing with herbs and salts. With time they started travelling the world- visiting various civilisations- learning their medicines and surgical knowledge and archiving it in the great library located in Persia. From the secret Mayan medicines to the ancient Vedic surgery they learnt it all—developing further, improving and most importantly archiving the knowledge for the future. Even when the civilisations themselves perished—their knowledge lived on with the Zoldragos.

About 3000 years ago the Zoldragos had a revelation—in their long history they had visited many civilisations and their conclusion had always been the same—that humans by nature are bullies, they are never satisfied with what they have. They get beaten up by someone stronger and cry injustice but do the same wrong to someone weaker with the first chance they get. The Zoldragos also understood that humans if left alone WILL bring about their own destruction, and they could not let that happen. They were doctors, sworn to save lives and they would do anything to protect human life. That day they made a vow—They WILL defend the weak and the oppressed and They WILL preserve the balance of power no matter the cost or sacrifice, so that humanity lives to see another day.

For doing this, they took up the very same tools they used to save lives- their scalpels and their knives and their wits and their knowledge of the human body. They became an order of assassins- agents of darkness- protecting the light of humanity from the shadows no matter the cost.

Throughout history whenever an empire rose in power and threatened the others- the Zoldragos were there restoring the balance—saving humanity from being dominated and overruled.

The road to maintain peace was hardly smooth—thrice the Zoldragos came so close to extinction- yet somehow they survived, barely, but still survived. With time a new threat emerged—Supers , and it became annoyingly tricky for an ordinary assassin to maintain order when his enemy was endowed with superpowers. The Zoldragos did what they did best—turn to their medicines—with the help of accumulated knowledge of the ancients they started modifying their own bodies—bring about genetic mutations- selecting some qualities and discarding the rest—iterating through bloodlines and playing with the genome pools- they too started developing superpowers. Our bodies became like those of super soldiers- every Zoldrago has some universal qualities- physically we are all like Captain America—at the peak of human physique, super hard skin nay penetrable even by bullets and tolerance to natural elements and all forms of poison. But more interestingly some of us have unique special powers- My eldest brother Zack can change every cell in his body to an unnamed superalloy, my second brother Mac can charge electricity like a human eel, my dad? He is like Superman without the fear of kryptonite. Me? I am utterly useless in this matter, there is nothing special about me other than the standard abilities-making me the weakest in my family. Of course, if you don’t count my wanting to be a superhero. Well even with all their powers none of my family had ever been in the hero business. Me being the black sheep had never been interested into medicine—it was the heroes who inspired me, gave me a purpose, so here I am trying to become a heroine.

You would think given my assassin training and the powers I have it would be easy—it was not. Apparently, there was more to being a hero than bashing up villains- you need to learn laws, study them, abide by them and what not…..so much learning! OH GOD!! I have eidetic memory mind you- my whole family does, but I never found books interesting, especially fat books, fat law books.

My father, finally giving up hope to make a doctor out of me insisted I get a job that pays (hero business doesn’t) and so here I am sitting in the last bench of advanced calculus I am very good at maths—thank you. Wondering if I could use differentiation to bash up a villain, and feeling extremely sleepy from getting up at 4 in the morning( for my daily exercise regime) when our professor Mr. Peterson made an announcement ‘Class, we have a guest student among us today—Peter Duncan Frasier. He is here representing the University of Cambridge where he is Summa Cum Laude, in Psychology.’ That caught my attention—Not only the new Zoldrago headquarters were currently near Cambridge, my own father teaches in Cambridge—well All prestigious medical schools have a Zoldrago in their staff under some alias or the other, and my father Is a big name at Cambridge. My brothers studied there too before graduating and going their own ways. Mr. Peterson continued’ Mr. Frasier here comes highly recommended by his superior and my dear friend Dr. Morton who had requested me to take him into my class for some extra credits he needs to complete his course.’

What caught my attention next was the boy himself—who was walking down the aisle between desks—towards me! He was quite lean and tall—about 5′11, 75 kilos, quite handsome too. I could tell his measurements because of my training to measure opponents—the training showed me more—he may not show it, but his walking style gave away a hint of strict discipline- military. His movements were fluid yet optimum—as if each movement was customised to expend the least energy and bring out maximum output- definitely trained in martial arts. His build was lean, but his muscles were toned from regular exercise- He was much stronger than he looked. He had a headful of curly black hair with silver streaks and eyes so piercing that would put a hawk to shame. He flashed a smile at me—his teeth perfect and dazzling white and sat down at the empty desk beside me. I found myself staring—my heart was beating so fast, and I was sweating bullets- was it ….could it be….love at first sight?

His hair, I wondered, those silver stripes ….they meant something—something I had seen ….in my father’s lab but could not recall, Eidetic memory or not, brain cannot recall something if attention was not paid and I rarely paid attention in medicine ….or calculus. The boy had taken out an A4 sheet of paper and taped it to his desk- then he brought out 2 pens—each in one hand and began to draw- Ambidextrous—like me, huh? This boy was much more interesting than my calculus and I could not help staring between doodling on my own note. ‘ Miss Sabre, if you may ‘ I was jolted back to reality by my professor ‘ I beg a little attention please.’ He was clearly annoyed by my lack of attention.’ If you would be kind enough to solve this problem ’ Umm yeah …I stammered looking at the problem he had given me. It was not difficult, but lengthy. Having Eidetic memory I had memorised all the differential formulas there were and I was smart—smart enough to develop my shortcuts in calculus. This problem—well normal people would take at least 15 steps to do it—me, I would take 9. ‘ I could not help stealing a glance at Peter—he was looking up from his paper, his eyes moved to me and then to the problem. ‘ Hehe, Olivia’ I told myself’ If there is a time to impress the hot stud it is now- Go girl blow him away with your superior calculus.’ My hand blazed through the paper, almost done—when ‘9.5’ Peter had his hand in the air—giving the correct answer.

Every eye in the room turned to him, including mine, and then they turned to me. Normally I paid zero attention in calculus class, I confess- hell even less than zero. But I AM the queen of calculus. There has never been a time when someone had beaten me at calculus. I could solve problems faster, better and in lesser steps than my professor let alone the students. Even Mr. Peterson was shocked by this turn of events. ‘ Must be his speed’ I told myself ‘ No way could he have a better technique…’ ‘ Mr. Frasier, could you please share your solution?’ said Mr. Peterson to Peter,probably having my exact chain of thought , who got up to the board and did the problem in ……….5 steps. Every mouth including mine and Mr. Peterson’s were hanging open by now- so simple , yet so elegant. He had started like the method I myself used but only till the 3rd line, where with a stroke of genius in a single step He had brought down the calculation process to almost half, like me he was an inventor of shortcuts yet as if leagues ahead of me. He came back to his seat amidst shocked silence of the class, and gave me another of his dazzling smiles, making me blush furiously. The professor was starting again , I gave Peter a last look and turned to my notes and did a double take…..He was not studying Calculus, not at all. With both hands flying like machines over his paper, doing something definitely not calculus, or maths for that matter. I grinned, an ability common to all Zoldragos was Adoptive Muscle Memory- the ability to learn and copy any movement if shown once, an ability which helped us to learn and master all the martial arts in the world just by seeing it once. I took out a paper, stuck it to my desk and began to copy his drawing.

‘ Five elephant …..four elephant….. three elephant…….two elephant…….one elephant……zero elephant ’ Alistair’s eyes flew open. One countdown over, another to go. He was hovering 100 feet over a dome-shaped building, officially used as some government office and warehouse. But he knew better, it was a secret Lab, Lab number 8 owned jointly by Eugene Frasier and the government, and in this lab there was something he wanted. ‘ KILL….. KILL…. KILL HIM…TEAR HIM …..DESTROY HIM’ . He closed his eyes struggling to push out the voice , to push out the programming Duncan Frasier had put in him, only for the voice to become stronger taking the form of its master—Duncan himself, backing him down , cornering him. ‘ We are alike you and I, we are murderers, spirits of vengeance, weapons of destruction. There is no peace for us, no home, no family. We live and die for the thrill of battle and bloodshed, you cannot escape it, it’s your fate. You cannot…….’

‘No …no…leave me alone …..LEAVE ME ALONEEEE.’A new voice had appeared ‘ Focus ….Focus kid….you got this.’ The voice of his mentor Kobayashi Reed or Kobasan as he called him.’ I AM NOT YOUR WEAPON’ shouted Alistair, his own voice echoing through his helmet. Duncan’s voice faded, ‘Focus Kid…..concentrate ….and there is nothing you cannot do.’ Said Kobasan’s voice as his image appeared in Alistair’s mind. ‘I am scared Kobasan’ said Alistair, jamming his eyes shut ’I don’t want to become his weapon, I don’t want to kill Eugene and I don’t want to be alone anymore’. Kobasan’s image sighed ‘ Kid , Listen…..You are not Duncan’s weapon. You are Alistair Frasier of Babylon.’ He paused’ And no kid, you are nothing like him, you have a good heart, and no matter what happens, no matter what you do in your life, I ……WE will always be there for you- Me, Nadia, Darke, Shadowcraze…we ARE your family and Duncan cannot take that away from you, not anymore. Always Remember, kid, you need not be afraid , you are not alone—you will always have us, your family by your side and no matter what , your home will always be here in Babylon.’

Alistair’s opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the tears ’ Sorry, Kobasan but I don’t think I will be coming home after all.’

‘ Beep , Beep, Beep , Beep’ The alarm in his helmet told it was time. Taking a deep breath, he switched off the thrusters in his suit, falling towards the great domed building below him.

Kobayashi Reed walked down the stairs onto the tarmac, shielding his face from the blistering Sun and desert winds. The country of Azbasta was a desert island, yet rich in oil and metals.’ Welcome to Azabasta,’ the man approaching him wore an expensive suit, Armani , he noted, He had a black goatee and very black ,cold eyes He shook the man’s hand’ I Maqbul, Vizier of Admiral Alaadin am, humbly at your service. The Admiral sends his regards and welcome.’ Kobayashi chuckled. Maqbul’s eyes narrowed ‘ Something funny, Mr. Reed? ’ ‘ Oh please excuse me’ said Reed trying hard to keep a straight face ‘ its just that long time ago I saw a movie called ‘ The Dictator’ where there was this guy- General Al……ah never mind.’ He turned to another man who walked behind him’ Mr. Maqbul, meet my friend Jack. Jack meet Mr….’ ‘ Bodyguard’ said Jack, ‘ I am Mr. Reed’s Bodyguard’ , as Maqbul’s black eyes sized him up. He was 6′2 and built like a Rugby player, towering over Reed’s 5′11 lean frame. ‘ My Friend’ stressed Reed, and here she comes—‘ Ms. Nadia.’ The woman who had appeared at the Airplane door could only be described as—gorgeous. Long flowing black hair, deep jet black eyes and curves at the right places, her body showed a perfect balance of tone and feminity. ‘ I am Mr. Reed’s assistant’ she said offering her hand to Maqbul, who shook it and bowed ‘ The admiral will be delighted to meet you.’

‘She has a friend here , by the name of Armina Hazami,’quipped Reed ‘whom she came to meet. Do you know her, by any chance?’ Maqbul’s face darkened’ The daughter of the Chief Editor of the Hazami press? No I don’t know her.’ Seeing the curious look on Reed’s face he corrected ‘ This is a small country, so we citizens know each other by name, but I don’t know her intimately.’ He turned to Nadia’But you wont be able to meet the admiral. You were not invited.’

‘ What? Why?‘ Nadia said, puzzled. ‘ Well you are friends with Armina , that’s why.’ Said Maqbul ‘ And this meeting is not something you should be present at.’ ‘ Excuse me?’ said Nadia, with her hands on her hips’ I AM the assistant. I help Mr. Reed deal with his documents.’ ‘ Mr.Reed can handle his documents all right , I am sure’ said Maqbul. ‘I am sure he can’ Said Nadia indignantly’ but I intend to do the job assigned to me.’

Maqbul stared at her for a long moment, anger evident on his face, and she stared back at him when Reed decided to speak up ‘ Mr. Maqbul, I am sure Nadia does not mean to be rude, she never took Jet lag well.’ He took his briefcase from Nadia’s hand ‘I am sure ones she cools down at her friend’s place she will understand your position ’.’ Yes I agree.’ Maqbul turned to Nadia and smiled, to Reed it looked more like baring his teeth—full of malice ‘Your friend may give you a better perspective of the situation once you meet her. Good day to you.’ He turned and led Reed and Jack to the Limo standing at the edge of the Airport as Nadia stared after them.

Dr. MacDonald took out a syringe filling it with a blue serum he had just finished. ‘ Now to see if this works’ he looked down at the boy bound on the operation table.’ You know, you should be thankful to me, you lived on the streets wasting away your lives anyway with drugs and whatnot. I am giving you the opportunity to be of use to science- the greater good.’ As the boy whimpered and struggled, he injected the serum in his vein. The boy let out an ear-splitting scream, and writing in pain, as the doctor started taking notes on this pad. Before his eyes the boy mutated, his muscles bulging up as if being inflated like a balloon and then with a splat his skin burst, arteries gushing out blood and within seconds he was dead.

‘Another failure’ said the doctor closing his notes ‘ 30 tests so far and none can withstand the formula. Master won’t like this , not at all.’ Shivering at that very thought he took out his phone and dialled ‘Dr. MacDonald , sir…’ ‘ Peabody, I have no time for your pleasantries ’snapped MacDonald ‘ The subjects you sent died. All of them.’ Peabody or Dr. Robert Peabody sighed. He was a former assistant of MacDonald, when the later was doing research with stem cells. When MacDonald started delving into the more unethical areas for research he was shut down , fired from the company, and the whole team was disbanded. Peabody had wandered around for some time before getting the job at the public health centre. He had always admired the genius doctor and his research- even his total disregard for ethics and morality. For him ,sacrifices for the sake of science was not only acceptable but needed , as long as his own skin wassafe, so when MacDonald came out of hiding and wanted new test subjects, he was glad to be of help in exchange of the promise of working together ones again. He knew MacDonald was working on a super human formula, and he was willing to sacrifice innocent humans to get a shot at that power. Rounding up the homeless, who came for treatment and sending them to MacDonald as test subjects was not impossible for him. Some mind control technology supplied to him by MacDonald and he was getting obedient slaves to be sent off to the doctor. But he was not saint either, often having a nice time with the better-looking females. But apparently, the serum was not yet ready and so many people vanishing, homeless or not was ought to gain some attention.

‘ Could you give me some more details ?’ said Peabody ‘ Some specifications?’ ‘ Didn’t I tell you NOT to ask questions?’ snapped MacDonald ‘ your job is to supply me with humans, in return, I will give you a sample of the perfected super formula—that was the deal.’ ‘ That was not what I meant’ said Peabody ‘ You said all the subjects died, perhaps we are looking into the wrong group.’

‘ What do you mean?’ said MacDonald.’ You are forcing the body to accept a superpower gene’ explained Peabody ‘ but those are normal humans. Hence their bodies are being overwhelmed by the genes. Perhaps if we choose people who are either supers or have superpower potentials, their body would be more suited for the serum.’ ‘Hmm,’ said MacDonald’ that might just work.’ In mind, he cursed ‘ Damn that Peabody, that should have occurred to me.But then he WAS a great student, probably the best I have seen. I must not allow him to come in contact with the master, or the next thing I know he has replaced me as master’s favoured servant. Ones I have my formula, I will take care of him. Permanently.’ Hiding his malice, he continued’ River city DOES have its fair share of supers.I don’t think you would have much problem’.‘ I may need some heavier mind control tech’ said Peabody ‘ those supers need to be put down fast.’

‘ Will be taken care of’ said MacDonald ‘ anything else?’ ‘ Yes actually’ said Peabody ‘ the other day I went to River city college for the student vaccination programme, there was 1 girl the needle could not penetrate, not like her skin was hard or something , the needle just wont go in.’ Big deal ‘ groaned MacDonald ‘ maybe a super. Why not you start with that girl?’ ‘ That was the funny part’ said Peabody ‘ the super detecting tech you sent me did not go off on her, yet it was working perfectly elsewhere. Even from a distance it did not indicate her having superpowers’. MacDonald frowned ‘ You know what Peabody send her to be , hypnotised and alive, I need to look into her.’ He disconnected the call , ‘A tough-skinned girl who is not super? IS it ….can it be…….a Zoldrago?’ He grinned at himself’ Master had always wanted to study one of those, if my guess is correct, if this girl IS a Zoldrago, Master will be pleased, very pleased indeed.’ He rubbed his hands in glee at the prospect’ But that would mean I have to dispose of Peabody, cant have him hogging the credit of delivering the Zoldrago to Master.’ He went back to his lab computer, whistling to himself, in far better spirits than before.

‘ A Map!’ I thought to myself , looking down at the drawing I copied from Peter, ‘ and not just any map, a tracking map!’ ‘ We as assassins were taught to track down people we needed to kill, and used special maps to plan our attacks. These type of maps gave better idea about the habits of a target, where he would be at a particular time, doing what. Peter’s map was not as good as the ones we ourselves used, but given the fact that we developed the technique over generations and he probably developed his technique himself it was truly remarkable. This boy was a genius beyond anything I had seen.’

I analysed the drawing again‘ He is tracking down 1 …no ..2 people, in this city. And it would be interesting to know exactly who they are.’