The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

What’s in a name?

That’s my koan for today.

Does it hold and channel the expectations of a parent? Are we moulded by echoes of the person we are supposed to be? Or is it merely a label by which we can distinguish ourselves from the common herd?

I’ve had so very many names, been so many different people. It becomes difficult to know just where I end and the deceit begins.

Today I’m Shala, a slumming rich bitch who’s far too arrogant to recognise how far out of her depth she’s strayed.

TacCom, by their very nature prefer the precision of calling me a Mata Hari Series, Infiltrator Class Genetic Engineered Life Form, although when they’re feeling companionable they might stretch to the rather more succinct, K-10 Delta.

And the other GELFs, the other freaks and, the closest thing I will ever have to a family, call me Nails.

Charon is, by any stretch of the imagination, a shit-hole. Decades of open-cast mining have turned the once fertile world into something shrivelled, dark and irredeemably filthy. Heavy metals stain the prefab buildings with toxic rainbows, while the rain etches the armourplas domes into frosted translucence.

Everything suggested that the planet was dying. Even with the best technology mankind had to offer, the dwindling natural resources were no longer economically viable and, as a result, the settlers were falling back into a particularly brutal form of feudalism.

I pulled the poncho more tightly around my neck and let my features settle back into the expression of muted disgust, which Shala habitually wore.

Far above, the stars were all but lost behind swirling particle-clouds and, what little light did filter down into the ‘Scar’ was swallowed in shadow long before it reached the first layer of settlements.

My local contact seemed to keep deliberately unsociable hours. Part of me wondered whether that affectation and her intransigence in the face of the irritation it caused, was all part of Miko’s legend. After all, the woman was a pawn-broker, debt-collector and fence. The services she provided weren’t something anyone would choose… in fact, they were as much reviled as they were necessary.

She had no love for the Commonwealth, hence my little deception. But the former separatist would take my money and, in return, I would get at least some of the information I wanted.

If the Squids had a presence here, then Miko would know.

I hammered my fist against the door’s pitted plastic, shifting my feet nervously in an effort to protect the already ruined boots. Condensation smeared the inside of my facemask, blurring my world into foggy abstraction.

It seemed to take an age before there was any response and my banging grew more urgent as I waited. Distortion crackled through the external speaker, rendering the voice almost unintelligible. But the message in her clipped tones was clear enough. State your business, or clear off!

“Ms. Coral,” I barked, haughtily. “My people arranged an appointment and I am not accustomed to being kept waiting!”

Much to my surprise, the airlock cycled almost immediately. I’d expected Shala’s little outburst to earn her another few minutes in the naughty corner, but it seemed that Miko was less vindictive than I.

Tapping into that arrogance was surprisingly easy and, even before the outer door had fully opened, I sashayed inside as though I owned the place.

The decon process was breezily efficient and there was even storage for my outerwear.

Shala might not have been impressed by the time the inner seals opened, but I was.

The willowy oriental who was waiting to greet me, only added to my sense of ordered precision. Outwardly, she didn’t look a day over twenty, but then the use of anti-agapics was widespread in this part of space.

In contrast, her kimono looked authentic and she certainly wore it well.

“Miss Coral,” she sighed, turning the title into one sibilant hiss. “Please accept my profound apologies for keeping you waiting. As I am sure you are aware, a person in my position can never be too careful. But that is no excuse for rudeness.”

I nodded, never quite acknowledging her directly. But my host acted as though my casual distain was the most natural thing in the world and never once even batted an eyelid.

“My time is precious,” I told her after a moment and my tone made it very clear that hers wasn’t. “And I see no reason to draw things out with an elaborate attempt to make this transaction seem anything but what it is.”

Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptible, but that was the only outward sign that my manner might be beginning to grate.

“Go on,” she suggested amiably enough.

“I want to acquire something very illegal,” I explained coldly. “Illegal enough to get us both mind-wiped if any suggestion of this conversation were to get out. And I am told that you are the person to ask about such things.”

Miko’s smile was icy and her eyes had become dark marbles.

“You mentioned not wanting to drag things out,” she all but snapped.

“Quite so,” I allowed, apparently ignoring her outburst. “My contacts suggest that if there is a control pod anywhere on Charon, you would already know and, for the right price, you might even be able to get hold of it for me.”

I didn’t believe the smirk that twisted her lips. Behind that veneer of artifice the business woman was at work. Sizing me up and trying to decide whether I was worth the risks inherent in the deal I proposed. The very fact she hadn’t already dismissed my idea, suggested I was on the right track. Though, what the Squids wanted with Charon was still anybody’s guess.

“A control pod?” she asked lightly.

“Yes,” I snapped back. “Is that going to be a problem? Was I misinformed when it comes to your… abilities?”

She shook her head and gave another of those exaggerated sighs. A sense of familiarity stirred old memories, sharpening my awareness and spilling over into the cold shock of imminent danger.

“Miss Coral,” Miko hissed. “If you knew anything about the object you claim to be seeking, you’d know that finding such a thing would only be possible if the Squids themselves were active here.”

“The Squids,” I suggested, letting my body react automatically to the perceived threat, “or one of their agents.”

Miko didn’t even try to answer this time. Instead, she leapt toward me, moving with deceptive grace.

When she shifted her position minutely, taking all her weight on the balls of both feet, I knew she was about to strike. The style was archaic and lacked the mathematical precision I was used to. But, shit, she was fast!

Muscles tightened in my flanks, crushing both adrenal reservoirs and lighting up my nervous system with tailored epinephrine.

Her hands were a blur and my mind was still playing catch up. I barely managed to intercept the flurry of blows, wishing, not for the first time as my forearms soaked up the punishment, that I had something more than the plastic laced throughout my skeleton.

Either of my sister Morganas would have already finished this fight. But then, Caz and Scar were both seven feet tall and completely bald, not to mention being built like dreadnaughts. However, this was still supposed to be a covert op, and the big girls’ subdermal armour didn’t really lend itself to the kind of stuff I was supposed to get done.

“You know,” Miko took a moment to gloat, her pretty face split into a savage grin. “I think I do have what you’re looking for and, because I like you, I’ll even let you try it out, free of charge.”

Those first few clashes had given us both a clear picture of what we were up against. She was definitely faster than I was, and hit far harder. But then I’ve never been about brute force.

I do sneaky. And I excel at it. The rest of them go in hard, fast and brutal. I, on the other hand, am a fucking ninja!

I let the carbon-fibres stiffen my fingers, forcing my hand into a rigid blade and pooling venom beneath the nails. As Miko really started trying to hit me in earnest, I watched her technique and waited for an opening. Victory demands sacrifice, although preferably that sacrifice should be made by ones enemies. Sadly, in this particular case, I was going to have to let her hit me.

The impact of her small fist was enough to rock me back on my feet. I tried to roll with it, but I could still see stars. Miko’s teeth flashed white. She’d tasted victory and already knew the fight was over. It took that long for the toxin to start circulating and for her mind to realise something was wrong.

All it needed was a single scratch, just enough to draw blood. I’d barely caught her when that blow had slipped through my defences. But it was worth the reddening bruise, just to see that wonderfully shocked look on her beautiful face.

She stared down at the insignificant wound, the one that only now was beginning to burn. And I had just enough time to catch her, before her body started to seize.

We both went to the ground, as she started to thrash. My neurotoxin was gripping her synapses, but that wouldn’t last. I used my weight to keep her pinned as best I could, but she was still this mad, squirming thing.

Instinctively I forced myself to yawn. Muscles stretched, sending pleasurably tingles up into the roof of my mouth. I rode out the last of her convulsions and then lent in toward her throat. Tiny, ecstatic twinges filled my mouth, urging the canines to extend and unsheathe. I closed my lips against that creamy smooth skin and bit down, hard.

My fangs slid effortlessly into captive flesh, filling my mouth with hot copper. Holding her motionless body tight, I gnawed, milking every last drop of venom from the tiny sacks, filling her veins with dark, liquid promise and dashing away any last, faint hope of escape.

I tried to convince myself that there was nothing sexual or overtly erotic about what I was doing. But the proximity of our bodies, the warm throb of her pulse against my tongue and faux intimacy of that provocative nuzzling put the lie to my feeble denials.

There were more than enough clotting factors and anti-septic agents in my saliva to seal any damage I might have done. And yet, I wasn’t thinking about any of that as my tongue played over the puncture marks. Her kimono had opened slightly while we fought, revealing a slash of marble skin. My own clothing felt uncomfortable tight and even the slightest movement ground the stiff material over my sensitised flesh.

If fact, the only thing that kept me from jumping her right then and there, was when the rising hiss of energy grew so loud it could even overwhelm the roar of blood in my ears.

Miko wasn’t going anywhere, not with her body completely saturated with psychotropics. All the luscious oriental could do for now was lie there, while my venom marinated her brain in entirely gratuitous bliss, hopelessly paralysed and completely at the mercy of her own chemically supercharged libido.

“No,” I realised, unconsciously stroking my fingers over the rising welt. “She’ll keep.”

But whatever was happening next door, I needed to deal with it, right now.

The whine built towards a crescendo, resonating through my teeth and setting them on edge. I followed the sound, finding the threshold where it became sensation, before sliding open what had to be the storeroom door.

I didn’t have the luxury of a double take, so I simply accepted and reassessed what I thought I knew.

The woman kneeling in the centre of the small box-room could only be my contact and I struggled for a moment to understand how I could have mistaken the youthful firebrand outside for this.

Outwardly this Miko appeared as untouched as the impostor, but there was a weariness behind her eyes that spoke of experiences far beyond anything I wanted to imagine.

It took only a split second for me to come to terms with this new reality, and only then did I allow myself to look at the thing wrapped around her throat.

Control pod is a euphemism. It’s a clumsy translation of a captive Squid’s tortured screams.

The writhing thing coiled so very tightly around Miko’s slender neck, was one of their larva. It was a mass of pulsing tentacles, stretching from a small central body, which concealed a single, razor sharp tooth.

She had been stripped to the waist, her own kimono pulled down to expose heavy, dark crested breasts. Flailing tendrils squirmed and flexed over gleaming flesh, painting the woman’s skin with thick, clear syrup. Fronds wrapped and twisted around the lushness of those thick nipples, their tips gliding in random shivers.

Miko’s mouth hung open, her tongue dusky, her eyes glazed. I couldn’t make out the bulk of the larva, but I knew it was their, nestled into the nape of her neck, piercing her spine with it’s impossibly fine proboscis and feeding it’s numbing thoughts into her helplessly stunned brain.

Just one of these things was enough to subdue even a GELF and given time, its psychic emanations would eventually overwhelm the victim and give them a whole new way of thinking. Of course, the Squids generally didn’t do things by halves and the only reason Miko wasn’t wearing more of the foul things had to be because this was the only one their agent had brought with them.

I didn’t want to think about the bigger picture. They’d beaten me to our contact and had obviously come prepared. That suggested a degree of foresight I found particularly uncomfortable.

But, first of all, I had to get rid of the pod. And, I had to do it carefully, because it wasn’t going to give up quietly. The simple truth was that if I screwed up, it was going to get its claws into me and that’s the kind of knowledge that can’t help but add a degree of caution to ones actions.

I took a single step before the shriek reached its peak.

Electricity crackled around the kneeling woman, blue fire that rose from the floor in a geometrically perfect circle.

My blood ran cold when I realised what I was seeing, and I could do nothing but stare as Miko’s body became translucent and then disappeared in a cloud of glittering azure motes.

The silence seemed to echo, while static danced over every exposed surface.

My eyes rose inexorable to the ceiling, waiting for the hammer to fall.

Things were a hell of a lot worse than anyone had suspected. The Squids had never been able to fit a Transmat beam in anything smaller than a Heavy Cruiser and there hadn’t been an incursion into human space of that magnitude since the war.