The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Things were going to hell in the proverbial hand basket and I was still playing catch up. The manor was supposed to have been shielded, but no one seemed to have told the Squids that they weren’t supposed to be able to ‘port in.

I dropped a handful of pyrotechnics, scattering nanomines in my wake, while the tentacled things oozed through the walls of reality. Submunitions bounced and skittered, burrowing into the masonry or floating, unnoticed, when they finally came to rest.

The servitors swooped low, shedding armourplas confetti as their concealed weaponry came online. None of it was going to do more than slow the slimy fuckers. But, under the circumstances, beggars really couldn’t be choosers.

Psionic miasma began to seep around the edges of my control. I risked a glance over my shoulder. But neither of my uninvited guests had emerged from their quantum tunnels. The wash-over of the Squid’s pseudo-presence was almost enough to breech my defences. Fear tightened my awareness, while I fought not to think what it would feel like, unfiltered.

This wasn’t a fight I was wired for and there was no dishonour in my hurried flight.

One word boiled out of the ether, slamming into me with an almost physical force. I could feel the imperative tearing at my shielding. The sheer force of it bled across the defences and I bit down, fighting to deny how damn good that felt.

“Stop!” the imperative pounded me, while the subtext echoed through my synapses. “Yield… surrender… submit!”

And the worst of it was, I knew just how unfocussed that first attack had been. The Squids were simply broadcasting their desires and still, part of me… a large part of me… wanted nothing more than to freeze in place… maybe, sink to my knees… and let them take me.

“House,” I practically whimpered, “link me to Vulture.”

Static hissed in the background, grating through my inner ear.

“Apologies, Mistress Shala,” came the AI’s soft reply. “Broad-spectrum jamming detected, communication is, sadly, impossible at this time. House is ready for her spanking…”

It was good to know that one of us was maintaining their sense of humour.

So far, so predictable.

At least Vulture would know that something was wrong now. She must have detected the blanket of interference. Although, much like me, the scout ship wasn’t exactly much use in a stand up fight. Still, it felt good to know that she was out there and alerted.

“Glass ‘em!” I spat, trying to ignore the pang of conscience that stabbed through me.

Yuuka was a traitor, what did it matter if anything happened to her? She wouldn’t exactly have been overwhelmed with grief if I’d come to a sticky end.

But it seemed that my emotions had decided to abandon logic, at least for the moment.

I had a split second to bask in my regret and then the servitors opened up with everything they had.

A wave of heat poured through the open doorway, as brilliant light silhouetted my fleeing form. The wet rip of particle beams filled the air, drowning out the Transmat beam’s rising howl. Laminar explosives erupted behind me, forming crackling chains of destructive shrapnel.

Nothing could survive that hellstorm. And yet, I had no illusion that it could possibly be so simple.

Hughie’s growling challenge was lost in a wail of overstressed metal and the unmistakable pop of a magnetic bottle’s catastrophic collapse. The detonation added its flame to the already unbearable heat. I winced. Not because the old war drone was lost, his consciousness had already been backed up elsewhere, but at the speed with which he had fallen.

They were supposed to be buying me some time. At this rate, I wasn’t even going to make it to the top of the stairs.

My imagination painted its own vivid image of Yuuka’s naked vulnerability. And, somehow, I still managed to send the signal that would ignite the remaining nanomines.

The roar of violence swelled still further and my own despairing denial was lost in that maelstrom.

I half-fell through the basement doorway, rolling smoothly to my feet and reaching for the concealed weapon blister. Sensing my proximity and no small measure of my intent, the carapace split open. I snagged the nucleus pistol as I sped past, feeling irrationally comforted as the gecko pads sucked against my palm.

Chances were, it wouldn’t even punch through their PK. But, at the end of the day, there’s simply nothing like a high-tech firearm when it comes to getting that over-inflated sense of invulnerability.

Another pulse of Squid-thought reverberated through the house, far stronger than before. It took hold of my already molten core and squeezed savagely.

“Surrender,” it demanded. “Submit… obey… give… up…”

And I wanted to.

“Hot dry sand,” I muttered, parroting the mantra while my oblivious pussy happily clenched and giggled. “Hot, dry sand… hot, dry sand…”

Tentacles slithered wetly against cold stone. I could hear the suckers and imagined how each puckered maw gripped and clung. My own limbs moved in eerie slow motion, fighting through the thickening restraint of the creature’s projected desire.

“Fuck, fuck…” I intoned, breathlessly, “Fucking… hot, dry… sand.”

It came hurtling up behind me, arms spread wide and almost filling the stairwell as it climbed. The Squid’s mottled skin seemed to ooze like melted plastic. Its bulk should have made the creature ungainly, but instead it moved with quite impossible speed.

Dark eyes regarded me with hideous intelligence and, as they swirled into rainbow abstraction, another wave of control washed over me.

“Hot!” it whispered savagely and thought became sensation. “Aroused… weak… helpless… slut!”

I could already feel its tentacles upon me. Long, psychic tendrils were squirming through the chinks in my defences and tapping directly into my most forbidden fantasies. My free hand flailed, searching blindly at almost the same moment the pistol began to hiss.

The air itself flashed, brightening into a geometric kaleidoscope.

“Cool, wet grass!” I almost screamed, unable to ignore the thoughts unspooling inside my head. “Cool… wet… Wet… So very warm and… wet…”

It was going to wrap me in its arms, coating my flesh in glistening, psychoactive slime and then, while it probed every crevice, plumbed every secret place and hidden spot… the Squid was going to fuck my mind… using and abuse me until I wouldn’t even be able to think without its permission.

And I was going to love every obscene second of it.

My finger spasmed against the trigger, but I wasn’t even aiming any more. Not that it made any difference. The Squid’s psychokinetic shields were just too strong. I arched, waiting for its touch, wondering if the reality would somehow transcend the promise of those lingering psionic caresses.

The chainglass was cool against my fingertips and, somehow, that solidity was enough to snap me back. I could still feel the Squid worming around in my head. But, for a moment at least, I was once again my own person.

I took hold of the specimen jar and managed to hurl it clumsily into the Squid’s face. The supposedly unbreakable crystal shattered against the creature’s defences, sublimating into vapour. The Phox took only an instant to recognise its newfound freedom, but that was long enough for it to register as a threat.

Maybe the Squid was young, or perhaps it was too caught up in the thrill of the chase. I’ll never know, but, for whatever reason, my attacker turned its attention toward the scarlet insect and presumably hit it with the full force of its mental “fuck off” field.

This, as it turned out, was perhaps the worst thing it could possibly have done.

Phox are psi-sensitive, but not in a good way. Psychic activity hurts the vicious little bastards. It pisses them off. Even experienced second hand, my attempted mental rape had driven it practically berserk. Being targeted so directly simply stripped away all the social niceties.

In short, the Phox went bat-shit!

Squidy reacted predictably enough. It turned its attention onto the most direct threat. Or at least the most obvious one.

The grip on my mind slackened, leaving me with just enough control to stay on my feet. But I was ready. And even that little freedom was enough to let me aim the nucleus pistol.

My sidearm hissed, almost angrily and, this time, there were no fractal patterns to intercept its projectiles.

I felt a surge of excitement, a little thrill of elation from my attacker that probably best translated as, “Who da Squid?” Bits of Phox rained down around it, scorched but still twitching. The Squid turned its rainbow eyes back onto me and let me know that this time it wasn’t going to hold back.

And that’s when it exploded.

It’s hard to imagine what having the majority of your mass suddenly transformed into something lethally sharp and pointy must feel like. The visual impact was stunning. One moment I was ready to beg to have what was left of my brain sucked out through my cunt. And the next, the stairs had been redecorated with ‘essence of Squid’.

“House,” I gasped, still fighting off the last remnants of the Squid’s suggestion. “Give me a status report.”

“Of course, Mistress,” the AI sighed. “The drone that Mistress has insisted on referring to as Louis is still engaging the hostile in Mistress’ playroom. One hostile is deceased… as is the drone Mistress’ jocularly designated Hughie. Two more hostiles are now partially manifest in the hanger.

“House was assured that this domicile had been shielded against teleportation, she awaits Mistress’ decision about the most appropriate punishment for not confirming this at the time.”

I grinned, mostly out of spite rather than because any of that news was good.

“Hang tough,” I suggested amiably. “I’ll be right there.”

With two more Squid in the hanger bay, there was no way I was getting off of this rock. Then, irrationally, another thought occurred to me.

“House,” I wondered softly, distancing myself from the sounds of battle reverberating beneath my feet. “What’s the status of my captive, new designation, Yuuka?”

“Captive Yuuka left the building using the same Transmat beam used during the initial assault,” the AI explained. “Current status… unknown.”

So I hadn’t killed the bitch after all. Something that felt a lot like relief tingled in the background, before I shunted that aside as well.

But, before I could process what that might mean, another explosion rocked the building. The floor seemed to buckle, practically lifting me from my feet.

“Mistress,” the AI continued, “Drone designated Louis offline, building’s structural integrity now at 55%... and falling.”

No shit! I could recognise a fusion cell implosion when I felt one.

There wasn’t any time. With the last of my obstacles out of the way, the Squids would be coming for me. And the only direction left for me to run, was up.

Bursting into the lounge, I charged directly toward a section of wall, vaulting the leather sofa as I did so. Sensing my approach, the conceal panel slid aside at the last moment and I raced through into House’s core.

The flat lozenge of darkened glass didn’t look like much. Even if you inspected it more closely and, caught sight of the gleaming patterns within, it would have been easy to miss the significance. But this was the crystal lattice that held House’s consciousness.

“House,” I breathed, “On my mark, initiate user program, ‘Hostile Incursion’… mark.”

“Program running,” the AI announced, deadpan, “one minute and counting.”

Without further comment I snatched up the palm-sized crystal and threw myself through the room’s only other exit. I hit the next staircase running. This was going to take crackerjack timing!

“See you on the other side, House,” I grinned manically, taking the stairs two at a time.

The Squids wasted no time scouring the manor for me. They must have known what I’d done to their comrade and that had to have pissed them off. I let myself believe that might somehow be to my advantage. Because, after all, when you have three brutally efficient psychic hunters trying to track you down, what you really want is for them to be royally ticked off with you. Isn’t it?

“Fuck!” their command flowed through the building, even the first touch enough to set my hips twitching. “Aroused… needy… wanton…”

“Cool, wet grass” really wasn’t going to hack it, under the circumstances.

And, (if you’ll pardon the pun), even though I already knew what came next, the command fell with the force of a sodding hammer.

“Orgasm!”

So I did… all that repressed desire welling up to choke me as I braced myself in the narrow stone passageway.

Lighting up my synapses in a carnival of convulsive ecstasy and screaming, “come and get me” in a language that must’ve been impossible to ignore.

Trying to maintain any kind of psychic defences when you’re lost in climax is pretty much pointless.. Your brain is locked up in a kind of seizure and only the strongest blocks can hold under such circumstances.

I know the Squids were counting on that being the case with me. And I’m equally certain I didn’t disappoint. But, what they obviously weren’t expecting was for someone else to hear me.

Precious seconds ticked by, while I screamed the undeniable truth of my weakness out into the darkness.

That was when I first heard her.

Soft and yielding, her presence reached out to me and cushioned my awareness. Warmth leaked through that initial, tentative touch. It filled me, unknotting my straining muscles and dulling the roar of my melded mind into a gentle whisper.

My questions melted away, lost in the unceasing countdown.

“Come to me,” she asked and it never even occurred to me that I might refuse.

Her words strung a tender loop around my sensitised sex and she used that tether to draw me in.

Moist movements echoed through the stairwell, pushing us both to hurry. My feet pounded the worn steps, while the Squid’s seductive presence grew ever closer, urging me to waste precious moments glancing back over my shoulder.

I hit the external door with my shoulder, somehow moving faster than the archaic servos could react. The next instant I was through, flinging myself out into the pallid, early-morning sunlight. Chill wind cut through my flimsy clothing and, only then did I stop to consider what the hell I was doing.

The manor’s flat roof swept out over ‘the Scar’, but left me with nowhere to run. I turned back to the exit, sighting down the pistol’s long barrel. It was one hell of a place for a last stand. But, somehow, I didn’t quite feel ready to go out in a blaze of glory.

Movement flickered behind the door and I could almost hear their projected desires, muffled into musical incoherence.

I took a step backward, bracing myself as I dropped into a casually perfect firing stance.

There were enough nanocapsules for maybe a dozen good shots. That would just have to be enough.

“Come to me,” the voice asked again, dragging my gaze away from the door and down, down into the dizzying depths.

Yuuka’s words drifted back into my mind and I tried to ignore how even the memory of her breathy confession made me want to have her back in my hands.

The Squids were searching for “History,” she had told me, for a “fragment of their past, deep within the Scar.”

I stared down into the primordial darkness, already feeling her nod of agreement.

Shit!

“Jump,” she urged, but there was no compulsion behind that single word.

The door cracked and splintered as the Squid tore its way through. I could feel it surging toward me, my cunt melting at the thought of those divinely controlling tentacles.

And, trapped between that certainty and the fragile possibilities offered by my supposed benefactress, I made my decision.

I half turned, meeting the Squid’s baleful eyes for an instant, before rolling backward, over the low railing and down into the wind-ripped chaos.