The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

I remember the accident. The explosion.

After that, there’s nothing for a while, not even dreams. Then, very slowly, I became aware of my surroundings.

Something was wrong, very wrong. Nothing looked right; it was as if I were looking at everything through water, from a strange angle. I couldn’t hear anything, smell anything, taste. . . .

And I couldn’t move! I started to panic.

Suddenly there was a woman’s voice. “It’s conscious, Doctor,” it said. “Readings indicate strong cortical activity.” I didn’t realize that I wasn’t hearing actual sound, but instead was picking up surface thoughts from the speaker.

“Excellent, Marla,” another voice, a male voice, said. “The brain appears undamaged and fully functional, just as we’d hoped.”

It? The brain? What the hell were they talking about? I struggled to move, to speak.

Instead, suddenly, my viewpoint shifted. I seemed to be suspended fly-on-the-wall style somewhere behind the black-haired woman in the short skirt and white lab coat whose voice had first caught my attention. Off to the side stood an older man, thin, balding, wearing a lab coat of his own and thick glasses. I had the feeling I should recognize both of them.

And beyond them . . . !

Floating in a tank of some thick fluid, largely obscured by the tubes and wired which connected it to the surrounding apparatus, was a human brain, complete with attached optic nerves and eyes.

Suddenly I was looking at the world through murk again, and I knew.

I would have screamed, if I’d still had a mouth. But I didn’t. The brain in the tank was me.

I don’t remember anything for a while after that. I think I must have passed out. When I woke up, Marla and the male doctor were fussing over my tank.

They noticed my revival right away. “Thank God!” the male scientist said. His name was Brill, I remembered now: Isaac Brill. “Its functions are returning to normal. I thought we’d lost it there, for a bit.”

I remembered a lot more now. The woman was Marla Kutusov, and she wouldn’t have liked Brill using her first name the way he had before. She was a very cold fish, despite having a body to kill for under that coat.

And I—I was David Fenner. Doctor David Fenner, thank you very kindly, before the explosion. I still didn’t remember how that had happened. Dr. David Fenner, top neurophysiologist, working on a top-secret government project to create tomorrow’s soldiers, human brains transplanted into powerful robot bodies.

We’d been nowhere near ready for the first human subjects. For one thing, the robots were years away from readiness; for another, just keeping the brains alive and functioning was still an iffy proposition. We’d worked up to chimp brains, but nobody’d been in any hurry to look for human subjects.

No, scratch that, I corrected myself. Somebody must have been, or I wouldn’t be . . . where I was.

But something had happened. I remembered, now, how my point of view had suddenly changed. Was it possible . . . ? I concentrated.

Sure enough, suddenly I was looking at—what was left of myself—from across the room again. Somehow, I was able to “see” through the lab’s video hookups now.

And there was more. I shouldn’t be able to hear anything—there didn’t seem to be any sort of audio hookup—but I had heard both Kutusov and Brill, plain as day.

Or had I? I suddenly realized that I didn’t hear anything else: none of the usual background noises. But there was something. . . .

“This isn’t right,” Marla seemed to be muttering under her breath. “We’re moving too fast. I don’t like some of these readings.”

Brill didn’t seem to notice. His own voice whispered, “Years ahead of schedule! Years! General Pipes was right to authorize us to use Fenner after the accident.”

I guessed the truth. Somehow I was hearing their thoughts. I had no idea how it was possible—maybe because my brain no longer had a body to run, and so had a lot of extra capacity—but it was true.

I wondered if I could “talk” the same way. I imagined myself speaking, tried to make it real, and “spoke”: “Dr. Kutusov, can you hear me?” Some instinct warned me against having her respond out loud, and I went on, “Don’t say anything. If you hear me, nod twice.”

Marla Kutusov nodded, once, twice. Then, suddenly, she looked startled.

“Marla?” Brill sounded puzzled. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I “told” her. “There’s nothing wrong. Tell Brill there’s nothing wrong.”

The dark-haired woman answered as I’d told her to. “No, Dr. Brill. Everything’s fine.” What was more, she seemed actually to believe it: the disturbed look vanished from her features. Had my suggestion actually been enough to alter her thinking? Maybe, I speculated, she couldn’t tell the difference between the thoughts I projected and her own. If that were true, it opened up all sorts of possibilities.

I turned my attention to Brill. “You need to leave now,” I told him. “You need a break. You can come back in an hour or so. You’ll feel better.”

Brill responded just as I’d hoped. “I’m taking a break,” he informed her. “I’ll be back in—oh, say an hour. You don’t need me right now, do you?”

“No, it’s fine,” Marla replied, unaware she was parroting words I was putting into her head. “Go right ahead.”

Brill left the lab, completely unsuspecting. If I’d still had a body, I’d have been tempted to rub my hands together and cackle wildly.

As soon as Dr. Brill was gone, I addressed Marla Kutusov again. “Doctor,” I “said,” “just stand there and listen to me. It’s very important that you stand in front of me, facing me, and relax, and listen. Answer ‘Yes’ if you can hear and understand me.”

Marla turned to face my tank. Her arms fell to her sides and a calm, listening look settled over her face. “Yes,” she finally said.

Oh, this was perfect. She was obeying me as if hypnotized. I thought of all the times I’d tried to interest her in going out on a date. Why couldn’t I have had this sort of power over her back when I could really use it?

But how far could I take it?

I had a wicked idea for a test. “Marla,” I commanded, “imagine you’re a stripper. Strip, right here, right now. Forget where you are; imagine you’re in a club somewhere, on stage, under the lights, and the music’s playing, and all you want to do is dance and peel off your clothes. It turns you on, it makes you hot, nothing else matters, Marla.”

And it worked! The ice-queen researcher I’d futilely lusted after began to sway seductively, a heavy-lidded smile plastered on her face. She wriggled out of her lab coat, dropping it to the floor, and went to work on the rest of her garments. As her clothes fell away, she seemed to get into the role more and more. At last she was down to nothing but the glossy black high-heeled pumps she always wore, and dancing, dancing wildly to the imaginary music she heard.

And I heard it too! Watching Marla, I’d become aware that I could experience more than her surface thoughts. I could delve into her memories, feel what she was feeling, even—as I discovered in a brief accidental flash—see through her eyes. I could sense that she was every bit as turned on as I’d “told” her to be; she’d followed my silent instructions to the letter, and no longer remembered she was a scientist or knew she was in a government laboratory. She genuinely thought she was a stripper performing in a nightclub.

Oh, baby, I gloated, are we going to have fun!

There was just one little problem. I still didn’t have a body of my own. I could get excited watching my pulchritudinous puppet perform, but I couldn’t hold her in my arms, couldn’t kiss her, couldn’t thrust into her and come.

That realization deflated me. With a mental sigh, I “spoke” to Marla again, gently bringing her out of the fantasy and ordering her back into her clothes. When she was fully dressed again, I gave her a last instruction: “What you just did, didn’t really happen, Marla. It was just a daydream, one you don’t want to tell anyone about because it’s so unprofessional. Nod twice if you accept this, Marla.”

Dr. Kutusov’s head bobbed up and down. Then she went back to her lab work as if nothing had happened.

It was incredible. It was like something out of a fifties horror movie, actually. I could control people with my thoughts! I could make them do anything!

More than that. The second or so I’d spent looking through Marla’s eyes suggested I could actually take over another person’s body as if it were my own. If I could refine that power, I might not be trapped in the tank. Thinking again of the woman I’d just made strip, I was inspired. All I had to do was find a suitable male victim, er, subject, and I could take her for real.

Shortly, Dr. Brill returned to the lab. He showed no signs of suspecting anything strange was going on. I reached out, trying to do deliberately what I’d done by accident with Marla, and suddenly I was looking at the brain tank (I was trying hard not to think of it as “my” tank; I really, really didn’t wan o deal with that) from across the room.

Brill didn’t seem to notice he had a passenger in his head. He addressed Marla: “Anything happen while I was out?”

“No,” she answered. “Everything’s fine; all the readouts are optimal.”

“Excellent. Then we can proceed with installation of the audio I/O ports. I want to try verbal communication as soon as possible.” That was more news to me, but it made sense. If you were going to keep a human brain alive outside its body, you’d need to be able to communicate with it to make sure its mental functions were intact. With the chimps, we’d just been testing responses to visual cues.

Brill’s cold-bloodedness appalled me. I’d signed on for this project with the understanding that any human subjects would be volunteers, especially in the early stages when risks would run high. Not only had he jumped the schedule by so much that there wasn’t a body ready, he’d dispensed with the volunteer part. I’d been drafted.

I’d been drafted. I was honest enough to admit that the fact that it was me made a difference.

Still, Brill had just tossed aside not only the experimental protocol we’d carefully worked out—endangering the project’s success—but whatever semblance of medical ethics the program could claim. I made my decision.

I licked imaginary lips and reached out. This was going to take work.

“Shut off the lab cameras,” I commanded Brill. “The two of you need privacy.” The middle-aged doctor obeyed, crossing the room to a control panel and tapping out the necessary commands on the console. He even disabled the alarms which would normally have alerted Security. His mind had taken my suggestions as his own thoughts, just as Marla’s had before, and had gone right on to take the next logical step without my having to tell him.

“Why did you do that, Dr. Brill?” Marla raised an eyebrow.

“Privacy.” Brill came back to stand where he’d been before, looking at his fellow researcher. “We need privacy, Marla.”

“For what—ooooooohh!“ I’d switched my attention to the brunette, suggesting that she was suddenly powerfully aroused. Her body obeyed, shivering with the sudden sexual sensations I’d told her she was feeling. Her back arched and her head tilted back, eyes closing.

“For this,” I answered with Brill’s mouth. I reached out with Brill’s arms and pulled Marla to me. To Brill, I mean. This was getting confusing. But it felt as if I were pulling her to my own body—just as I’d hoped.

Switching between the two of them was tricky, but I had to: I didn’t seem to be able to control two people at once. All I could do was plant suggestions in one, then move to the other, back and forth as necessary. Fortunately, my commands seemed to hold even when I moved on. My victims’ brains simply kept acting on what seemed to have been their own thoughts. “My will is your will, my thoughts are your thoughts,” indeed.

I pulled at Marla’s clothing while she, lost in the feelings I’d triggered in her while occupying her mind, tore frantically at mine. Brill’s, I mean again. In no time, we were both naked. We dropped to the cool, tiled floor and writhed against each other, arousal building toward release.

We came together. Brill’s climax was shattering. Who’d have thought such a dry stick had it in him?

Suddenly I was back in the tank. Through the viscous fluid around me, I saw the nude forms of Isaac Brill and Marla Kutusov lying on the floor in post-orgasmic stupor. I could still feel the remnants of that final ecstasy fading into drowsiness. I tried to reach out again in that special way I’d learned, but I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t . . . .

I fell asleep.

Hours had passed by the time I woke up. I was alone.

I concentrated again, and found the lab cameras were back on. I discovered I could turn them on and off at will, either singly or in combination; after playing around with them a bit, I left them working. After scanning the room through them, I decided to experiment further. I had a weird sense now of a phantom “body,” though it didn’t seem to have a human shape. I couldn’t pin down exactly what sort of shape it did have. (Imagine you didn’t know what your body looked like and you were floating in a warm pool, your only impressions of yourself what you could gather from “inside,” and you’ll get some idea of what it was like for me.) What more could I do?

I found I could access the facility’s computer systems. There were limits: any files or programs to which I didn’t know the access codes were as untouchable as they would have been when I was—I forced myself to face it—human. Whatever I’d become, that wasn’t the word for it.

I could roam through the research complex at will, looking in on specific rooms through their video monitors just as I could do in “my” room. There didn’t seem to be a range limit: I was traveling the information highway, and could go anywhere, as long as there was a digital route connecting my destination and that goddamned tank and no security barriers stood in the way.

Following the phone circuits, I found Brill’s quarters. Hovering as an invisible presence behind the phone jack in his room, I could sense that he was there. I jumped into him. He was alone in the room, and half smashed. That wasn’t like him.

I listened to his thoughts.

Oh, Jesus, he was mourning, what got into me? If Marla goes to the General, I’m out of here and my security clearance is birdcage lining. I’m ruined.

I almost felt sorry for him. His next thoughts put a stop to that: By God, it was worth it, though! I don’t know what got into her, either, but hammering it to that cock-teasing bitch really made my day. Hell, my year!

I pulled away. Toad, I thought. Not, I had to admit, that I was any prince either, especially after what I’d done to the pair of them—but knowing what was going on in Brill’s head made me feel less guilty about doing it.

I went looking for Marla after that. As I’d expected, she, too, was in her quarters. I entered her mind.

I wasn’t prepared for what I found there.

Marla was lying on her bed, naked, one hand feeling her breasts, the other between her legs. Breath whistled in and out of her. She was visualizing some fantasy guy with the muscles of Hercules and the face of Apollo and getting herself off!

I had to struggle to get past her self-stimulation to any actual thoughts. Apparently she was horrified that she’d screwed Brill; her opinion of him wasn’t any better than mine. As she lay there amid her tangled bedclothes, she was trying desperately to put her indiscretion behind her by having sex with someone—even an imaginary someone—else.

Ick.

Curious despite myself, I dug around a little in her memories. What I found was fascinating: our ice queen was apparently quite the hot number in her private life. I lost count of the number of boyfriends she’d had—and “had” was the right word, believe me. Here at the project, though, she’d stayed away from all the guys; she looked down on her fellow scientists as nerds and regarded the military staff as dumb brutes. Her impression of one Dr. David Fenner was searing: Loser. He’s better off the way he is.

You have no idea, Dr. Kutusov, I thought. You have no idea.

I withdrew from Marla’s mind. I had some things to think about.

Over the next few days, I explored further. I found that I could jump into the mind of anyone on the base. Once, I even tried going into the brain of one of the research chimps. One try at that was enough. I almost didn’t make it back out—suddenly, I could barely remember what I’d been doing. I almost thought I was a chimpanzee! Only after I’d pulled away did my full awareness return.

It was right after that episode that I discovered that my little excursions were being recorded. Apparently, they showed up as anomalous brain activity. Fortunately, I was able to “persuade” Dr. Brill to doctor the records up to that point—and a little while later, I figured out how to do it myself, going into the data systems and making careful adjustments.

Then I went back to work, entering the minds of more and more people on the base. I worked my way through the entire scientific staff and the top military people.

It was while I was poking through the mind of General Pipes that the idea came to me.

When I found him, Pipes was quietly fuming over the slow progress of the work on the robot bodies. I don’t need a bunch of brains in tanks, he was thinking. I need soldiers in tanks, dammit! If I can’t show Congress some real progress, we can kiss our funding goodbye. Evidently Brill’s leap to sustaining a human brain—my brain, thank you—wasn’t enough to satisfy him.

I supposed I couldn’t blame him. As far as he knew, after all, my brain was alive in only the most technical sense. Brill had told him his instruments indicated I was conscious, but without more evidence than that, he wasn’t prepared to believe it. And of course he had no idea of the new powers I possessed.

I used those powers, burrowing into his mind. Working carefully, I eased his concerns. “Don’t worry,” I commanded. “The brain work’s made a quantum leap forward. Brill and Kutusov’ll be able to show it once they get the input/output gear hooked up”—I intended to push that, hard—“and after all, a military man ought to be able to snow a bunch of soft-bellied civilian politicians on the rest of it.” I went on in this vein for some time, until I sensed he’d bought the package.

Just as I was about to withdraw, it hit me. The General had been unhappy with the development work on the robot bodies, even more unhappy now that the brain side of the project had pulled ahead. But what did I want with being stuck inside a machine, even one in human form? I’d rather have a human body again—and if they could take my brain out of my body and keep it alive, if they had some hope of putting it into a robot, why couldn’t they put it into a new human body?

I pulled my consciousness back through the base network, back into the tank, and thought it over.

The more I considered it, the better the idea looked. What kind of life would I have as a robot? Especially as the kind of bulky, quasi-human walking tank the General wanted to build first, before trying for robotic infantry? Yes, sir, what we needed here was a change of priorities.

But first, I needed to make sure the government didn’t decide to pull the plug.

The Congressional delegation arrived a week later. By then, I was ready for them. Brill and Marla had set up the audio equipment, allowing me to hear sounds and speak conventionally for the first time since I’d come to in the tank. While I spoke with them, I worked on their minds, switching from one to another as needed. I was better at it now; I’d been practicing.

Old Joseph Willett was the hardest nut to crack. Utah’s senior senator had strong reservations about the entire program rooted in his Mormon faith. There was no way I could “talk” him into supporting it enthusiastically, not without raising eyebrows at his sudden change of mind. The most I could manage was to play on his patriotism to blunt his opposition. By the time the politicians left, I’d softened him up considerably. He wasn’t on “our” side, but he wouldn’t fight against continued funding.

I briefly contemplated planting some suggestions to make the stiff-necked old bastard disgrace himself—say, cavorting in public with a stripper, like Wilbur Mills years ago. I knew I could do it. But it didn’t seem necessary.

The others were easier. All I had to do was keep whispering into their minds that the program was important to national security, that it was a visionary approach to national defense which it could only help their careers to support, and so forth. Soon enough, they were convinced.

“Oooooohhh—!” The pretty young clerk arched her back as she rode atop the muscular security guard. I was piloting the guy, and this was only the latest time I’d brought the two together like this. They were dating regularly, and had no idea there was a third party involved, let alone that their invisible partner had been responsible for their relationship in the first place.

“Ahhhnnngghhh!” The burly trooper came, sending a shock of ecstasy through himself and through me. “Oh, God, Carol!”

I stayed with them as the pair drifted in postcoital languor. Orgasm didn’t throw me out of my human vehicles anymore.

A couple of months had passed since the visitors from Washington had inspected the project. Just as I’d hoped, funding had been continued. In fact, the upcoming year’s appropriation had actually been increased.

I’d need that. I was pushing for a reorientation of the research, diverting some of the base’s resources toward finding a way to put my brain into a new human body. I’d planted the idea with General Pipes that severely injured soldiers could be saved that way. Where the new bodies would come from—well, frankly, I didn’t care, as long as I got a good one.

I went looking for Marla.

The cold fish I’d known in the old days had thawed considerably in recent times. Episode after episode of steamy sex with Brill and then other men while under my control had burned away a lot of her reserve, if not actually of her self-control—and I’d known for some time what lay beneath that frosty exterior she had presented to us all.

I found her in the main rec lounge, chatting up one of the younger scientists, a shy, bespectacled nerdboy named Edwin Sandhurst who reminded me of—well, myself, about five years ago. She was dressed to show a lot of leg, and the blouse beneath her unbuttoned lab smock showed plenty of cleavage. In combination with her outfit, the tight bun into which her dark hair was bound conveyed just a hint of S&M to her companion. He was having a hard time focusing on what she was saying.

I slid into Marla’s mind. She thought Sandhurst was cute, but too young for her. Not too young, though, for her to amuse herself with: she knew perfectly well the effect she was having on him, and got a charge out of it.

I felt ticked off on the younger man’s behalf. And unlike him, I was in a position to do something about it.

“He is cute,” I whispered from my perch within Marla’s brain. “So what if he’s young? That just means you’ll be the one in charge, and that gets you hot, doesn’t it? Go ahead. . . .” I went on, serpent to Marla’s Eve, until she gave in.

Marla chucked Sandhurst under the chin and giggled. “Let’s go on back to my quarters, shall we?” Her voice was smoky. “That will be so much more private, don’t you think?”

I didn’t have to tap the younger man’s thoughts to know how he felt. Looking through Marla’s eyes, I saw him gulp and blush. A minute or so later, the two of them left the lounge together.

Back at Marla’s place a little while later, two naked, sweaty bodies strained toward ecstasy together. Flicking back and forth between them, I experienced the pleasure of both. Under my prodding, they came together, screaming in simultaneous release.

Eventually I roused myself enough to pull out, back through the base’s electronic pathways, back into my tank.

I’ve got a long wait ahead of me, I know, before I get a body of my own again. But it will happen, one way or another. I’ll keep pushing both the original robot project and the new human-body effort I came up with. Sooner or later one or the other will succeed. My only worry is whether I’ll keep my telepathic powers once I’m back inside a human skull, or a metal one. But until then, I’m in charge around here. And I intend to milk it for all it’s worth.

It’s funny how things work out.

Before my accident, I spent years here as a researcher, but nobody paid much attention to me or to any of my ideas. I was just another body.

I’m finding it much more satisfying as the brains of the outfit.