The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Alone... terrified... helpless...

For the past two years she had known only certainty. Her obsessive love for the Doctor had been a dazzling light that had blazed in the darkness, putting everything into the shade.

Everything had revolved around doing what she was told, pleasing the Doctor as the moral and ethical boundaries that had once held her back dissolved.

And the Doctor had ensured that she had enjoyed it.

And made her felt special.

But now...

That universe had collapsed.

All the certainty had vanished in an instant.

Leaving a void.. absolute nothingness... in it’s place.

She had never felt so alone.

An all-consuming wave of self-pity threatened to crush her... followed by sudden rushes of ecstatic hope as she lurched from one extreme to another in the darkness.

In a way she envied the Converted. At least they had the Doctor.

She had nobody. Nothing.

After all, how bad was it? Most of the people here, both prisoners and guards, were destined to spend the rest of their miserable, joyless lives in bleak conditions devoid of hope. And rest of Caelum Nova weren’t much better off.

What... what were they really losing?

The Implant took all the pain away. It gave them certainty.

A reason for living. A sense of purpose.

Perpetual happiness.

Eternal love.

Really, the Doctor was offering them salvation!

The Implant was really a gift. A blessing!

Maybe... maybe she could...go back? Back to what it had been like before!

When she had the Doctor.

She could explain... make the Doctor understand... ask for forgiveness... beg for her to make it all better...

On the screen, seated around a large oval table, the entire Planetary Council were assembled, waiting.

“Medical Officer Xi,” the Governor addressed her directly, a wary gleam in her eyes. “You have requested this emergency meeting. Proceed.”

“Thank you, Governor,” she began, clearing her throat. Seated beside the Governor was her cousin, Commandant Fosshe, titular head of the planet’s regular military forces and the Defenders of Order, as well as Dorph’s bitter rival.

“Councillors,” she began, keeping her voice steady. “I regret to inform you that Caelum Nova is in the midst of a serious Pox outbreak...”

Audible gasps greeted her words, one by one looks of shock claimed the impassive faces that had glared back from her previously. In the space of micro-seconds initial disbelief quickly turned to fear and then anger.

“What...” the Governor barked, her body trembling with fury. “What is this?”

“Yes, Governor,” she repeated firmly holding her ground. “We have a substantial Pox outbreak on the Colony. There are indications of infection in at least twelve locations.”

Yet more murmurs greeted her latest statement.

“How did this happen?” the Governor snarled, slamming the table with her fist. “You are the Chief Medical Officer... This is your fault! You have failed in your duty!!”

Working hard to maintain her composure, she weathered the broadside.

“I’m going to have you arrested, Xi,” the furious woman berated her, screaming, “and make sure the Court finds you guilty... You’ll pay for this! A clear dereliction of duty...! Treachery!!!!!!”

Around the table fearful faces averted their gazes, each member of the Planetary Council silently calculating their own futures.

“If I may,” a new voice interrupted the Governor’s tirade. Ludmylla Dorph’s intervention instantly quieted the Governor.

“Thank you, Governor,” Dorph nodded politely at the Governor who resumed her seat, still incandescent with rage.

“I appreciate that emotions are running high because of this news,” the woman began smoothly. “Understandably so. As loyal members of the Authority we are guided by our sense of personal duty and responsibility towards the welfare of the people in our care.”

Shrewd, vulpine eyes stared warily at Dorph as the meaningless sentiment washed over them, experience having taut the Councillors that such words were usually a sinister prelude to extreme danger.

“I believe that the first course of action is to allow the Chief Planetary Medical Officer to complete her report before deciding what action to take... in order to best protect the interests of the people. Doctor, the meeting is yours.”

“Thank you Director Dorph,” she acknowledged. “As I have mentioned, there are signs of infection in at least twelve locations that have been identified so far. Further testing may produce more positive results.”

“Where are they?”

“At least nine Penal Complexes show signs of infection, as well as three major settlements, including Reineport. More testing is required to see how widespread the infection has spread.”

More gasps greeted her words. Not only was this a political crisis, but it was becoming more of a personal crisis. Fear of infection had entered the minds of those seated around the table. Reineport was not immune.

“Furthermore, I believe that the Bellerophon may also have been infected. Two of my staff on board have confirmed that a number of patients exhibiting Pox-like symptoms have appeared. We must therefore assume that the ship’s crew has been exposed.”

She ended her report.

Horrified, dumbfounded faces stared back at her. The crisis had just magnified; not only was the Planet infected but now it looked as if a capital ship reporting directly to the Authority had been compromised.

Any remote possibility of covering this up had just evaporated.

“You’re under arrest Xi!” the Governor hissed venomously, the first to recover after the bombshell report. “You’ll pay for this!”

Once again, Dorph intervened. “Please Councillors, let us not act hastily,” she calmed the Governor. “Doctor Xi, how do you respond to the charge made against you?”

Clearning her throat, she went on. “Based on my analysis, I believe that the cause of this crisis lies in the testing kits that were supposed to ensure early detection of the Pox. They are faulty.”

“Faulty how?”

“The chemical reagent within the test kits used to indicate a positive result for Pox no longer activates.”

“How did this happen?”

“They have long passed their expiry date,” she answered simply, greeted by murmurs from her audience.

“Out of date? Why was this not discovered? Why were expired, faulty testing kits permitted to be used?”

“I ordered new test kits every year to replace expired stock,” she went on. “The old kits were taken away for disposal and replaced.”

“I see,” Dorph nodded. “Thank you for your explanation, Doctor.”

Dorph turned to the group.“Chief Planetary Medical Officer Xi brought this matter to my attention as soon as she suspected that the test kits had been compromised.”

Eyes flashing dangerously, Dorph paused momentarily, the entire Council hanging on her every word.

“From my investigations, it would appear that this was not an error. This has been a plot. Unscrupulous profiteers lie at the heart of this deplorable crisis.”

Producing something in a metallic wrapper, the Director threw it on the table. “Instead of being destroyed, expired test kits were put back into stock after new wrapping with false dates had been applied.”

The Governor’s face had transformed from incandescent rage to ashen faced terror.

“Instead of the funds allocated for testing being used to protect the people they were stolen by criminals.”

Armed guards now entered the room and took up position behind the Governor and Fosshe.

“These two traitors,” she snarled, “are under arrest!”

Unceremoniously hefted out of her chair by the guards, all her power drained away in an instant leaving her a pathetic shadow of her former self. Fosshe started to plead uselessly. Moments later, the pair were dragged away by the Public Tranquility guards.

The testing kit scam had been a substantial source of the Governor’s income for many years. While the reagents were indeed old and past their expiry date, they were still effective in detecting the Pox. There was no danger.

“Congratulations Acting Governor Klemensow,” Dorph directed a thin, bloodless smile at the mousy woman visibly quailing with fear who had been the Governor’s deputy.

“I suggest,” Dorph continued, ignoring the terrified replacement Governor, “we should address the health crisis as a matter of urgency. Doctor Xi, what do you propose?”

“Thank you Director,” she nodded. “Under the circumstances, the only option is to enact Article Sixteen of the Protocol. Complete lockdown.”

The new Acting Governor looked nervously at the inscrutable Director who continued to ignore the others around the table.

“This is your medical opinion?” Dorph asked.

“It is.”

“Very well, then we shall do just that,” Dorph decided before directing her intense gaze towards the timid woman who visibly quailed before her. “With your agreement, Acting Governor?”

Nodding meekly, the new Governor assented in silence to the imposition of the strict quarantine measures designed to contain the spread of the infection; all non-medical personnel were confined to their homes or quarters until further notice and the military and police functions of the Authority were now at the Doctor’s complete disposal. All communications to and from the planet would be cut off to prevent panic.

“As well as isolating and treating those already infected, we must begin testing on key personnel to ensure that we stop any outbreak among essential groups.”

“Indeed,” Dorph nodded. “Ensure that all security personnel are checked as a priority.”

“Of course,” Xi nodded. “I’ve ordered the establishment of a testing facility in the Central Hospital. We can begin processing batches from priority groups soon.”

Dorph nodded. The unspoken message was clear; public order was to be preserved at all costs. With the Governor deposed, Dorph was now de-facto head of the military and Defenders, as well as Public Tranquility, and she wanted the forces under her command to be ready to deal with any crisis that might arise from Beth-Ahn’s seditious call to arms.

“I must also extend these measures to the Bellerophon,” Xi continued. “Like the rest of the planet, we need to isolate the ship. Nobody gets on or off until we assess how bad the situation is on board. Article Sixteen powers can be extended to Authority vessels in these circumstances.”

“I see,” Dorph nodded. “Deal with the ship as a matter of urgency. The security of the Sector must not be compromised.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “I have some staff on board the Bellerophon already. Additional personnel and the requisite equipment to test and treat infected crew will be dispatched to the ship once I reach the co-ordination centre in Central Hospital.”

Looking at the faces of the council members she saw that they had regained some of their composure now that the immediate danger to their positions appeared to have passed. The culprits had been identified, arrested and would take the blame for causing the crisis. Furthermore, by invoking Article Sixteen, she would be blamed for any mistakes or problems that arose in dealing with the outbreak.

She could practically see their minds plotting how to survive and profit from this crisis; none of them would interfere.

She strode confidently towards the Dart that waited to whisk her back to Reineport. The pilots and cargo were already on board.

Lined up in front of the landing pad, countless obsidian-clad bodies, standing stiffly to attention in neat rows, waited upon her.

Halting, she indulged in this unashamed demonstration of power.

Her power.

Hidden behind their convex faceplates, she knew thousands of lustful eyes were locked upon her, aching, adoring her as their vibrating slavesuits kept them on the brink of perpetual orgasmic ecstacy.

She knew because she had made them so.

A ripple of pleasure sizzled through her as she contemplated the sheer number of former-individuals that now belonged to her.

All hers.

Her property.

Apart from the Conversion specialists working on the final ten percent of prisoners to be Implanted and the search teams still scouring the complex for the missing nurse, she had ordered the entire inventory to be assembled prior to her departure.

If she was honest with herself, she needed this demonstration of fealty to assuage the cocktail of lingering self-doubt and rage that thinking about the missing nurse triggered. Karyna’s escape had shown the limits of her control... and she didn’t like it.

Karyna.

Clenching a fist, she squelched the thought. It would only disturb her good mood. She had accomplished so much, so quickly. There was much more to be done. She needed to focus, not obsess about this insignificant worm who had escaped her grasp.

Exhaling, she returned to the present.

With a flick of her hand, the swarm of black-clad figures immediately sank to their knees in one, smooth motion.

Basking the glow of her servants, she enjoyed the wall of sizzling, sexual heat radiating outwards from the assembled bodies, relishing the intoxicating thrill of absolute power she now wielded over these lesser beings, utterly slaved to her will.

All the years of humiliation finally consigned to the past.

Deliberately, she let the silence linger, feeling the temperature rise with every long, agonising moment her possessions waited upon her.

Should she make a speech? Some sort of rousing oration in which she would assert her dominance over her creatures?

But... what was the point?

With their brain Implants strictly regulating their thoughts, they weren’t subject to the passing whims and fancies of people. Needing to motivate Automatons was unnecessary.

They would do anything for her. There were no limits. For each, their entire existence was defined by their complete, bottomless subservience to her every desire.

They would die for her.

And in the coming days, some of them probably would.

The kneeling, throbbing Automatons waited.

And waited. Each second an agony of sexual torment for her dehumanized slaves.

Finally, she directed a broad, wicked smile at her property.

Her faceless humanoids remained silent but the temperature suddenly soared to blistering intensity as the feedback loop between their Implants and their vibrating slavesuits worked them into a frenzy of lust.

For her.

And her alone.

Without looking around, she gestured to her attendant.

From behind, number ninety seven approached, the Automaton’s gloved hands gently caressing the zip of her leather dress, sliding it slowly, reverentially, downwards, revealing more and more of her firm body to her adoring, brainwashed audience.

Slowly, deliberately, she stepped out of the garment, baring herself to the pulsating congregation of worshippers.

Clad now only in her long black boots, she could feel the sexual energy fizz and crackle in the air as the trembling, squirming, pulsing robotized servants feasted upon her magnificence.

Rather than her nudity being a sign of weakness, it was a symbol of absolute dominance, asserting her power over her Implanted creatures. For her dehumanized property she was their vision of perfection, the epitome of beauty... the source of all love... the living Deity who had Created them... a flawless Goddess to be worshipped.

She owned this sea of mirrored faces. Every single one of these creatures was nothing more than a reflection of her superior mind, animated solely by the purpose she had installed in their weak minds. Swaying visibly, the mass of vibrating drones surrendered to the excruciating pressure of the pleasure building within, pushing them to the edge of bliss, washing away everything else... Needing her... wanting her... desperate to serve, obey and worship her.

Licking her lips sensuously, she slowly reached up and caressed her breasts, enjoying the shivers of delight that coursed through her, keeping her gaze turned upon the mass of mindwashed flesh that submitted to her.

Uncontrolled, plaintive whimpering emanated from behind countless blank faces as programmed desperation threatened to overwhelm disciplined obedience.

Tweaking one of her bullet hard nipples, she whined softly, relishing the effect it produced upon her subordinates.

Smaller eddies turned into a slow wave rippling through a placid Automaton sea, gaining strength with every passing moment as a sudden intense, squall had descended out of nowhere. In an instant, the once calm ocean of humanoids was transformed into a roiling, churning ink-black maelstrom.

Kneeling... pulsating... whimpering... grunting... squirming... groaning...

Watching the ranks of her helpless property submit was a rush. Slowly licking her lips she let them suffer, every moment of silence intensifying the torment she was inflicting on her thralls, knowing that every single one of them was screaming inside, desperate for release, aching to please, needing, yearning, craving.

Wanting her.

Wanting to be fucked by her.

It felt so good.

This was what she needed.

For too long she had been powerless, left simmering with resentment as others had dismissed her.

No more.

This faceless assemblage worshipped her as their Goddess.

Soon, many, many others would be joining them.

Her Automatons would swarm over the planet, crushing all resistance, brainwashing every captive they took until everybody and everything on Caelum Nova belonged to her.

Then, later... more Colonies. Larger planets? Earth itself?

Hundreds of thousands... millions... Converted into Implanted slaves.

Her slaves.

Her Empire.

Sliding a hand down her hot body, she slipped a finger into the yearning moistness between her legs.

A cacophony of pure, animal lust emanated from behind hundreds of masked faces as bodily needs finally overpowered their Implanted discipline, the entire group collapsing into a tangled heap of skrieking bodies and flailing limbs, falling over like a field of grass cut down by a scythe, hundreds of faceless, dehumanized, robotized, humanoids grinding against each other, writhing and screaming as they exploded for their Mistress, each slavish orgasm a prayer offered to their Creator, hundreds of former individuals fused together by the white-hot mind-melting pleasure that poured through them until they became nothing more than a bubbling, molten mass of pure worship.

Moaning, laughing, she joined them.

Pressing herself tighter into the ridiculously inadequate alcove, she held her breath as the steady rhythm of booted feet grew louder and louder.

A voice boomed through the confines of her hiding place.

“Come to us, Karyna.”

Her sleep-deprived mind reeled at the sound of the familiar voice. Was she hallucinating? Was this real? Endless terrifying hours in the dark with only her fervid imagination and the spectres of the former-people she had Implanted, meant that she was no longer sure.

“We will help you,” Joselynne’s voice urged, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceiling of the narrow subterranean corridor.

A sudden chill ran through her veins.

All her earlier fever-dreams about salvation vanished in an instant.

Without seeing her, she knew.

Face concealed behind a mirrored dome, wrapped in a tight slavesuit that caressed her hot body, a thought-terminating Implant buried deep inside her brain, Joselynne was no more. The voice that called to her was that of a will-dead Automaton reciting meaningless words from a script.

“Mistress loves you, Karyna,” Joselynne’s voice went on. Closer and louder. “She only wants what is best for you.”

The title confirmed her suspicions. Doctor Xi was no longer a person that Joselynne loved. As Karyna had... did???

No.

Within the mind that had once been Joselynne’s, the Asian Doctor had been transformed into Mistress. The Owner of her thoughts. The possessor of her body. No longer a flawed human, the Doctor had become a Deity, the Omnipotent Creator to be worshipped and venerated.

Creator... she remembered thoughtlessly using the throwaway remark after they’d finished installing the Implant in the red-haired Pfalsz employee who had become the first production Automaton. Both pleased and flattered, the Doctor had added the title into the programming matrix.

Footsteps thundered through the narrow corridors.

Closer and closer.

Louder and louder.

Screwing her eyes shut, she desperately tried to control her rising panic.

“Mistress will make everything better, Karyna,” Automaton-Joselynne promised.

She was finished.

In a few moments she’d be discovered. They’d drag her out, firm hands pulling her weak body from the pathetic hole she’d curled up inside. She wouldn’t resist. There was no point. All her energy was spent.

Doubtless the Doctor would have her brought before her, to gloat, to humiliate and demean her in order to assuage her wounded pride.

After that, she’d be strapped into a Conversion Table. A short time later Karyna would be no more; she’d be indistinguishable from the rest of the humanoid slaves, becoming just another faceless, numbered Automaton.

Then the Doctor would probably fuck her, determined to reassert her dominance over the lowly creature who had dared to defy her will. Of course, with an Implant controlling her thoughts, she’d be an eager and enthusiastic participant, willingly submitting to her Creator.

The thought was both terrifying... and arousing...?

“You cannot hide from Mistress, Karyna,” the Automaton-nurse pronounced, very close now.

Heart pounding like a jackhammer, she pressed herself tighter against the alcove.

Each oncoming footstep was a clap of thunder crashing through her soul.

Seconds now.

They’d find her.

Tears rolled down her cheeks in a river of despair.

“Join us,” the once-joselynne went on, her voice more muffled. Different.

“You belong to Her, Karyna.”

The footsteps were less slightly softer...dimming... becoming more and more distant.

Dumbfounded, it took her long, tortuous minutes to realise they had passed her by.

Piloted expertly by sixty one, the Dart flew over the featureless landscape. In the rear compartment, a cargo of eighty Automatons, a mix of both alpha units and ordinary drones were ready to do her bidding.

They were about an hour away from arrival at Central Hospital.

In the passenger compartment with her were the naked forms of numbers thirty three and ninety seven, their bodies still bearing the signs of the passionate lovemaking they had indulged in for so many hours. It had been quite entertaining.

But it was time to get back to work.

Shorn of her uniform, the former hacker was seated at a portable console nearby, the slender Automaton busily checking that all was ready for the specially prepared audio-visual induction to be transmitted directly to the Hospital.

“Mistress,” thirty three reported, the adoration in her eyes shimmering like twinned planets, their apparent radiance nothing more than a reflection of the life-giving celestial body that animated them. “Link secure. Ready to proceed upon Your command.”

Nodding, she called the Head Clinician. The wide eyes of the masked doctor appeared on screen.

“Hello, Natalie,” she breathed huskily, enjoying the low moan that emanated from the hypnotized Romanoff. “Did you enjoy your time watching my special video? Not thinking. Watching. Listening. Obeying.”

“Yessssss...”

“Good,” she went on.

The blonde woman shook visibly as her entire body shook as the arousal took her, all resistance purged from her freshly warped mind.

“Are all the staff and patients ready, Natalie?”

“Y...Yeeessss...”

“Have you ordered them all to watch my Briefing video?”

“Y...Y...Yeee...ssssss...”

“Good. They need to understand what is expected of them. Isn’t that correct, Natalie?”

“Yessss... Doctorrrr Xiiii...”

“Very good, Natalie,” she praised. Under trance, the helpless Clinician had been ordered to issue certain commands to her now very compliant staff. “You have pleased me.”

“Aaaahhhhh...yyyy... esssssssssssss...!!!!!!” the woman gasped loudly, her eyes rolling back in her head as she succumbed to the orgasm triggered by her words. The three hours that the will-weakened Romanoff had spent fixated on her personal vidscreen, watching the spiral, listening to Doctor Xi’s voice, absorbing her instructions had rendered her completely docile.

“You only want to obey. You only want to please me, don’t you Natalie?”

“Ohh... yessssssss...” the woman responded eagerly, still basking in the afterglow of her submission.

“Good. The staff and patients must also obey. When they obey, they will please me. Just like you obey and please me. Isn’t that correct, Natalie?”

“Yessssssssssss...” Natalie hissed excitedly.

“Now, you have just received an emergency request from freighter lima zebra one-thirty-one to divert to Central Hospital. You will accept this request and clear it with Flight Control. Do you understand, Natalie?”

“Yesss... I under...standddd...”

“Good, check your notifications now. Obey.”

Dutifully, the hypno-conditioned woman logged on to the Emergency Medical Notification System, found the request, accepted it and marked it as a priority.

“I... havee... obeyeddd...” Natalie moaned helplessly, aroused from submitting to her commands, desperate to prove her worth.

“Good, Natalie,” she smirked. “It’s time for you and the others to watch my special Briefing. You need to look at the screen again. Watch and obey. Please me. Listen and obey. Obey. Obey me. Obey only me.”

“Ohhh...o...beyyyyy...!” Romanoff shrieked, the insatiable hunger consuming her thoughts.

“Yes, Natalie,” she promised. “You will obey me forever.”

Directing her gaze towards thirty three, she nodded. The former hacker activated the pre-recorded facility wide audio-video programming that would play over every screen in the Hospital. Stupefied by their drugged masks, unable to think clearly, the staff and patients would dutifully stare into the vid-screens and be lost.

Reaching out, she took the glass of wine offered by ninety seven, standing stiffly beside her and took a sip, savouring the red liquid. Who knew that the Chief Warden was a connoisseur? Her small, but exquisite collection, had been an unexpected bonus.

The Hospital would become her base of operations deep within the city. The fear, confusion and chaos caused by the Pox would enable her to begin Converting key sectors of the security apparatus who would assume control over key infrastructure. Later, once the A.R.I.D. system was disabled, her waiting squadrons of Snype fighters would swoop in and quickly crush any remaining pockets of resistance. With the Bellerophon neutralised, and the Authority in turmoil from Beth-Ahn’s challenge, no outside help would be forthcoming.

“An excellent vintage, ninety seven,” she smiled at her naked servant.

“Yes, Mistress,” the Automaton responded quickly, her nipples bullet hard, her cunt slowly weeping, her attractive face impassive, the Implant that turned her into nothing but an object glinting in the light.

Easing herself back into the chair, she took another satisfying sip, enjoying the depth of flavours, contemplating her achievements.

The Authority was dying. Hollowed out by corruption, it was desperately striving to maintain the status quo, putting on a facade of omnipotence whilst being rotten to the core. Many of those at the top were blind, divorced from reality, out of touch with the forces that were boiling beneath their feet. They had neither the imagination or the ability to change.

She had identified the fissures and chance had handed her the tools and ability to take advantage of a situation that had been festering for years.

Doubtless, the conspiracy theorists would weave a convoluted master plan to explain her manoeuvring. But in reality, there was no single sinister genius pulling the strings behind the scenes. There were far too many variables involved; too many people with competing interests, all reacting to fluid, dynamic situations, desperately trying to influence outcomes and outwit the schemes of their competitors. Rich and powerful people were as at the mercy of events as anybody else, but they had more resources available to try to ensure they profited from changing circumstances. But a universe of random chaos was intolerable to people—fantastical conspiratorial explanations were preferable than confronting the terrifying reality that there was nobody in control.

She had simply lit the fuse of a powder keg that had been primed to explode for many years.

The Authority was finished but what were the alternatives?

Beth-Ahn and the brutal military dictatorship she offered, complete with repression and mass executions? Terror would keep people in line, for a time. But it too was doomed to collapse because a society based on fear alone was unsustainable in the long term. And like all regimes based upon a cult of personality, once the aging Beth-Ahn met her demise, the fight for power amongst her rivals would produce instability, chaos and probably more warfare.

Then there was Fehn and the Divisionists with their dream of freedom. Despite their idealistic pronouncements, they were really nothing more than a mirror image of the Authority. Defeated, nursing their resentments in the shadows, whatever ideals they once may have possessed had long been corrupted. Morals were no match for Mafyka riches and the spoils of power. Fehn’s dreams of freedom were just that—dreams. Realpolitik and greed would crush Fehn.

Meanwhile, Everbushe-Pfalsz was trying to play both sides; no matter what faction won she assumed they would need her. Her industrial interests were too powerful and any regime would need to come to terms with her. By siphoning arms to the Divisionists she could claim to be secretly supporting them should they win. Conversely, if the Authority won, then she would suddenly “discover” a clique of hidden Divisionist traitors within her organisation who had gone behind her back. Rich and powerful Everbushe-Pfalsz might be, but she also lacked the imagination to realise just how precarious her position truly was.

Glancing out the window, the bleak, featureless desert landscape blurred past as the Dart sped towards the city. There was an hour to go before arrival so she had some time to kill.

Thirty three was busy.

But ninety seven was available for use.

It was dark. The hulking mass of the dirigible settled on the landing pad. Thanks to the prevailing winds, they had made good time, arriving only seven hours after Mistress’ ship.

Through the panoramic window of the command gondola, the lights of Reineport twinkled around them. Thousands of unsuspecting people slept, unaware that their lives were about to change forever.

Expertly, the pilots worked the controls, powering down the massive airship as it rested securely in the anchor points. Their skills had been impressive; the landing pad wasn’t designed for a vessel of this size and it had been a tight squeeze. Furthermore, nothing else could land while the freighter was here—a useful precaution in case any attempt might be made to land troops from the air.

Controlling a lighter-than-air craft required a different skill-set than piloting an aircraft; to escape the winds that buffeted the massive airship if it flew at lower altitudes they had to climb. Unfortunately this caused the thousands of cubic litres of lifting gas to expand, meaning some had to be vented to prevent damage to the thin outer skin of the vessel. But lose too much gas and the unwieldy airship would struggle to maintain it’s buoyancy when it descended to lower altitudes, making it dangerously difficult to control and increasing the likelihood of a catastrophic crash. It was a constant trade-off.

Alpha one had enjoyed watching the crew perform Function. It reminded her of...

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

The Automaton in the left hand pilots seat, number eighteen thirty four, turned her mirrored face towards her.

“Landing complete,” the voice of the Implanted pilot announced crisply. “Ready for unloading.”

she savoured the sight of the Automaton, both drones enjoying the reflections of themselves displayed in the contoured faceplates of one another, knowing how Owned they were.

And loving it.

“Attend,” she broadcast to the massed ranks of Automatons seated in the hurriedly constructed tiers of seating that filled the cargo hold. “Initiate disembarkation procedure. Cohorts one through five secure the perimeter. Cohorts six through nine, begin collecting Convertees in the Hospital building. Alpha cohort, proceed to the Conversion Facility,” she repeated aloud the orders that each brainwashed servitor had already been programmed with. “Obey.”

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

Rigidly following their orders, the thousands of Implanted women left the airship in silence and proceeded to their assigned tasks.

A few minutes later she was outside, the stream of black-clad figures emerging from the hulking freighter almost invisible in the dim light. Making her way to the former hospital guarded by armed Automatons, she entered the supposedly disused structure. Made redundant after the construction of the new and much larger Central Hospital, the older, smaller, abandoned building had been scheduled for demolition as part of the plan to expand the health facility. But until then, Mistress in her guise as the Chief Planetary Medical Officer had sealed it off and transformed it into the cornerstone of her plans.

Inside, the building was a hive of Function.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

Twenty Conversion Tables filled the large, empty space, five fully operational. These had been prepared by Mistress weeks ago, ready for this blessed day.

Beyond the Tables, a placid line of docile medical staff stood waiting beside another entrance. The women’s dull, vacant eyes, clearly visible above the modified K48 masks each wore, were fixated upon a huge screen opposite while wall mounted speakers relayed the soothing words Mistress had used to ensnare their wills.

“There is no need to think,” the Creator oozed into their hypnotized minds. “I think for you.”

A spiral twirled upon the screen, capturing what little focus remained.

“There is no need to be afraid,” Mistress’ voice promised. “I will take care of you.”

Sucked deeper into the swirling spiral, the entranced medics awaited their fate.

They didn’t have to wait long; the nearest eight women were ordered out from the line by two Automatons. Incapable of thought, the Convertees obeyed their instructions, making their way to a waiting Table, climbing on command into the human-shaped indentations made warm by the bodies that had preceded them.

“Listen to my voice,” their Owner insisted from the speakers as another group of glassy-eyed captives were brought to a Table beside the one which had already started to rotate. “Listen and obey.”

At the far end of the massive room, lines of programming chairs were being steadily filled with the naked bodies of freshly completed Converts.

The Automatons who had travelled ahead with Mistress had been busy.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

Pleased that operations were proceeding as planned, she noted that the newly arrived alpha units were readying the other Tables. They would be fully operational soon.

Meanwhile, other Automatons were transferring the components of the disassembled Conversion Tables from the freighter. A twenty five percent increase in their Conversion capacity would quickly speed up the mass Implantation of the medical staff and patients.

Then they would start on the rest of the population.

Their Owner must possess them.

All.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

Satisfied, she made her way outside and proceeded towards the Launch Pad. One of the off-world Medical Transport Craft was being loaded with pallets.

Standing beside it were the familiar figures of numbers sixty one and sixty three.

“Attend, Automatons,” she ordered, enjoying how the drones stiffened to her words. Mistress had been pleased with their Function and had chosen them for this task.

“Our Owner has entrusted you with delivering this equipment to the Bellerophon,” she announced, all three Automatons enjoying the ripples of bliss that cascaded through their slavesuited bodies as they contemplated the One Who They Worshipped. “This will be used to Convert the crew. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” the two Implanted flight crew responded firmly.

“Once this task has been completed, you will return with four unConverted prisoners,” she went on. “Ensure they are delivered securely.”

“Mistress desires that they are to be brought to Her,” she announced with finality, invoking once again the Name of their Creator, riding the waves of sexual ecstacy that coursed through her mind and body, knowing that she was pleasing Her.

SERVE

OBEY

WORSHIP

Karyna surveyed the scene. It was eerily quiet. All signs of life had vanished. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she made her way through the deserted complex.

Nobody.

Mentally exhausted after her escape from the clutches of the Automaton search parties, she’d finally collapsed into a deep sleep, not caring if she was discovered.

She’d slept and slept.

And on waking there had been...

Nothing.

And nobody.

Hunger had finally driven her out. Blundering her way through the utility corridors, she’d finally stumbled upon an access ladder to the upper levels and emerged, blinking into a deserted prison.

Entering the Conversion area she saw the empty spaces where the Tables and chairs had been, with only the heavy duty power cables and assorted detritus remaining to provide evidence of what had occurred in this space not so long ago. But the acrid stench of charred flesh and bone lingered, triggering memories of... pleasure... pain...

Something white caught her eye. Frowning, she picked up the piece of paper, unfolding it, her eyes scanning the handwritten note.

My Karyna,

I know you love me.

Come to me.

Xi