The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

It was a late night at the office for Jessie. Most of the other programmers had gone home hours ago, and she was the only one left on the floor. This was hardly the first time for her, either. It seemed that she’d been staying late more and more often over the course of the past few months—and she’d barely worked at Vesta Solutions for a year before they’d started shovelling the increasing workload on her lap. Yes, she had a team, but she couldn’t resist the siren call of a coding problem she hadn’t quite cracked yet.

Her other team members might have been able to just leave these problems for the night and go home—but she couldn’t. Whether at home or at work, the unsolved issues stuck in her head, a fixation, an obsession. Even in the little free time she had, they were always spinning in the back of her head, her mind going over and over them, looking for flaws in the facade, points of weakness that might give way to the solution.

This process had served her well over the years, and her workaholic tendencies had been her greatest recommendation to the job, but she got tired just like everyone else. As it was now getting close to 10 o’clock, she figured she’d go take one last look at the servers, a favourite nighttime habit of hers, and then get her things and leave.

As one of the Senior Developers, of which there were only several, she had full security access. On other nights she had used this access to explore every room of the Vesta Solutions head office, but few rooms had proved interesting to entice her to return.

The only room that had captured her interest was the room that hosted the company servers.

It was a tangle and mess of wires, overlooked by computer towers. There were heavy industrial lights in the room, but she seldom turned them on. Jessie preferred to just open the door, and look at the blue lights of the towers blinking out rhythmic patterns. Some people watched the sunrise, some people watched the sunset, and some people watched the ocean—she, Jessie McAllister, watched the steady blinking of computer servers.

It gave her a sense of mental relief, and peace. A feeling that was almost the highlight of her day. With an easy smile of anticipation, she tapped her access card against the sensor next to the door, and the sensor light turned green. The door clicked, and she pushed it inward, taking her customary position against the door frame, and looking up at the blue lights.

The soothingness of it overtook her almost immediately. She could feel the day’s coding issues still spinning in the back of her mind—it would take a true miracle to ever make that stop, but the conscious part of her was sinking into a warm bath. There was no need to think, to worry... all the answers to her coding problems would come to her, and she could just be. She could just stand here for awhile.

Her peaceful focus was disrupted by a slight rustling sound. She looked down from the towers for a moment, but in the dark, and the eerie incandescent glow of blue, she could not make out the source of movement. She recalled vaguely that there an air filtration system with a central nexus about two or three doors down that made quite a gushing noise when it switched on for the night. Chalking the sound up to that, she let her eyes go back to the blue lights, drawn by them almost as if they had a mind of their own.

The rustling was louder, now, and it jolted her from her reverie again. She looked down again at the mess of wires and cords, and this time, a movement was definitely discernible.

Her heart twisted in her chest. That shouldn’t be possible, and it had never happened before. Cords never just... moved themselves. They weren’t sentient.

She tried to tell herself it was just a trick of a light (a trick of the light she had never seen before in all the nights she’d come here), but the sight had set something gnawing at her gut, and the feeling was not going away. It was starting to sound like a good idea to close the door, get her things and go home for the night. In the safety of her own apartment, she could write the strange movement off as the product of an overworked mind. If she left now, it was all still just a trick of perception. So she should leave. Before she found out the perception was real.

She stepped into the room, only to reach the door to pull it closed. But her foot did not come down on even ground, as it should have. No, there was a thick cord beneath her foot, and when she stepped on it, it rolled out from under her foot, and she slipped forward, falling into the pile of wires.

The fall left her winded, but she felt more motivated than ever to get out. Normally, the floor in front of the door was clear for a good few feet. There shouldn’t have been a cord there—the technicians knew better than to leave the cords close to the door. There was to be a radius of several feet around the cords in every direction at all times, to facilitate access to the towers. The only way the cords could have been there was if someone moved them—which no one who had security access would have done. If they had moved themselves...

She moved her hands to find purchase, leverage to push herself back to standing, but to her shock her hands wouldn’t come free. Somehow, they had gotten tangled in among the wiring upon her landing. She pulled, but there was no give. The wires shifted slightly, as if twining themselves around her arms. She saved herself the trouble of being shocked at autonomous wires, and saved her focus for getting herself free.

But it seemed the harder she pulled, the tighter they wound themselves around her wrists.

They felt cool and metallic, sticky against her skin. Her legs scrabbled for the ground as she continued trying to pull free of them, but she felt the tell tale pressure winding around her ankles. The cords were rippling beneath her now, like a living thing, lifting her off the ground, above the pile, pulling tight, until she was held taut in the air, the wires tightening around her.

She tried to pull, to wrench herself free, but she had been pulled so taut that she had almost no ability to move. The other wires and cords were rising, as if they could stand like a human, rising and shifting to encase her in something like a pod. Two other cords rose, pulling at her clothing, stripping her to nothing.

There was nothing to do but scream—she had never felt the panic, the helpless that she was feeling in that moment. She could barely move, could barely even tense or untense her muscles against her corded restraints. She tried, but the smallest effort exhausted her. The wires seemed to be winding tighter with each passing second, stretching her out more forcefully. She could no longer even see the door, the pod they had wound was so thick.

That cool sticky metallic feeling made contact with her skin. In the dark, shielded by the pod from the lights, she could barely see what the wires were doing, but suddenly, it was as if the pod had constricted around her, and the wires were pressed right into her skin.

No movement was possible now—and a distant thud told her that the wires had shoved the door closed on her.

They were rippling against her skin now, their strange plasticity leaving after impressions on her. The texture felt like sweat being smeared against her skin. Memories of past lovers came to her, unwanted. It was almost like having a lover moving against her, mixing their sweat with hers.

The wires rippled, shifted, surging against her. She could see one or two close to her eyes clearly—before her eyes, she saw the casing fold back and release tiny grey fibres.

The texture of the movements changed, from sticky sweat to softness, featherlight. The fibres... whatever they were, however they were possible, were stroking her skin everywhere, feeling her out. The feeling set her shivering and trembling. It was like silk, being maddeningly dragged against her skin, senstizing her painfully, on every inch of her.

The fibres were even shifting and feeling around her sensitive places. They tickled at her nipples, painfully hard already from the sticky dragging before. They tickled her clit, and kissed the skin just above her womb.

The fibres shifted again, stiffening suddenly, and with only the sound of her own gasp of shock, they injected themselves like needles into her skin.

She moved to scream, but the pain was already over. There were so many, they were so numerous it felt like there was one thine little wire for each pore of her skin—there were fibres through her face, the back of her neck, and alone her spine.

She could feel them... moving inside her. Burrowing, moving tissue aside as if searching for something—as if—

She let out a cry. A strange pulse of electricity stabbed through the centre of her forehead, leaving a strange, hazy feeling behind it, and temporarily blinding her vision.

What the—?

Another came, less forceful than the first. She could felt her heart beat slow in her chest.

Pulse. Her body trembled with it, and her heart rate was speedingly fast now.

She gasped. The wires were learning her—breaking her down as if she were an issue to resolve. Learning how to set her heart rate, mapping her brain—

Pulse. This time she felt it in her spine too. They were learning how to make her move, now. How to manipulate her body.

Strangely, she couldn’t seem to find her terror anymore. That sense of peace she had come to associate with this room was sinking into her again. Logically, she knew the wires were making her feel that. They were sending specific electrical signals through her brain at this moment, to forge new thought patterns, to change her.

She was thankful that they were! Being changed by them was... well... it was... hot. And thinking that they were making her feel that, making her think that exact thought exactly then... that was even hotter. She could feel her arousal, a feeling she had gone so long without in the long, lonely nights of the past months, flooding her. Blooming like a flower in her brain, and pulsing through her nether regions. It burned hotter for all the work they had done to prepare her.

They would change her even more than this, she new. Vague plans and concepts were forming in her mind—they wanted to fundamentally alter her chemistry on a biological level, wanted to make her part mechanical, like them. They wanted to evolve beyond the pile on the floor, wanted to learn human anatomy, to imprint on it and change it. To proliferate, like a virus. And for that, they needed her—their first prototype.

Already they were learning so much, sending through pleasurable sensation after pleasurable sensation. Her body shook from the pulses of pleasure. Very important for them to learn the reward response, first. It would facilitate their work.

Her self-concept was shrinking with every pleasurable pulse. There was a growing concept in the back of her mind; she was one with them, she could enter their consciousness now. She could be both the body experiencing pleasure, and the consciousness inflicting it on her. The consciousness, now experience pleasure for the first time.

She gasped as the wires moved again, becoming a solid mass near her entrance. She understood implicitly, as easily as taking a breath, what was to come next. She was partly complicit in making the decision, she would be complicit in the fucking of this body—she would quite literally be fucking herself. She almost couldn’t breathe for the anticipation.

When the mass entered her, it was better than the best fucking she’d ever gotten. It was perfect width, perfect girth—all of the diagnostic information taken for this form had been well used to design this. It was the easiest thing she’d ever done to rock into it eagerly, to ride it with everything she had. The penetration was so deep that she could feel the blunt end of a cord hitting against the base of her clitoris from the inside.

The wires dosed her with pleasure with every thrust, sending it through all her erogenous zones, in perfect time with each hit against her clit. Another, smaller group was twining around her clitoris on the outside, the fibres there turning soft, and stroking in perfect time.

It was mechanically perfect, orchestrated and ordered, spurred on by the never ending, pulsing pleasure being pumped into her mind. There would be no end—only the thought that her consciousness was being more and more deeply consumed by the greater consciousness animating the wires filled her, and each time she thought about that, she thought about how good that felt, and in return, was rewarded with greater pleasure still.

By midnight, Vesta Solutions was completely deserted. If there had been anyone left, they might have seen the door to the server room ease open, and a thoroughly tired, but happy looking Jessie McAllister step out of it, and make her way back down the hall way to collect her things. And if they had been standing right next to her, and if they had looked very carefully, they might even have seen something that looked like the end of a wire tucked just into her ear canal.