The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Rath couldn’t believe his eyes. Sure, her breasts were bigger by about three cup sizes, her lips were poutier, her legs longer, and all body hair except her eyebrows and gorgeous, flowing golden mane was noticeably absent, but it was definitely her. Sarah Gallows, his first high school crush. He had resigned himself after her first rejection of him that he would never have her. Six weeks ago she had disappeared, and everyone feared she was dead and lying in a ditch somewhere thanks to some psycho on the road. But here she was, on a live porn website, happily masturbating and sucking dildoes and going down on some of the other women in the room at the command of users with webcams and microphones.

No, not happily, he realized. Though there was a slight smile on her lips, the rest of her expression was, well, nonexistent. Her orgasms were fake. She obeyed without question and did nothing without being commanded to. Something smelled funny. He began typing commands into his computer and easily bypassed the server’s firewall. The computer’s security wasn’t the easiest in the world to hack, but nothing Rath couldn’t handle. He found the site’s dark little secret soon enough. All the “horny sluts” on the site were quite well brainwashed little mindslaves. He saved as much data as he could on one of the 250 MB ZIP disks he had bought the day before and then shut down his computer before anyone could trace him. He loaded the disk into his laptop and looked over the contents of his ZIP disk. With a little work, he could quite likely dope out where the webcasts originated.

But why? a voice in his head asked. Why risk your life for a girl who’s never going to like you? And how do you know they didn’t find out where you were when you logged into the server? As soon as they figure out what you did, you’re as good as dead.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.” he answered himself sotto voce. He chuckled at himself. I must be plumb loony, sitting here talking to myself. he thought. He glanced over line after line of code until he found what he was looking for. The compiler had attached licensing info into the program code for most of their Java applets. All he needed to do was track down the license number of the Java compiler used to write the applets, and he’d have a place to start.

She sits silently at the table, which is otherwise unoccupied, staring uncomprehendingly at an open book before her. No one is looking. He asks if he can sit. She smiles sweetly and gestures him to the opposite bench. She tells him she is having trouble in the computer class. He offers to help. She accepts, and they spend ten blissful minutes together. He explains the concepts of spreadsheets and databases just as he did when he was first showing his little sister to use a computer. As time moves on, he grows braver, and after the lesson asks her to the dance. He knows what her answer will be before he has fully voiced the question. Rather than the firm and angry “No!” he was expecting, however, she gives him a gentle, understanding smile and puts her hand on his shoulder.

“I really like you, Rath, but...I’m seeing someone right now and he’s already asked me, and I’ve already accepted.” she says. “That doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends. Who knows, this other guy might turn out to be a jerk, and I’ll need someone to come crying to.” He swallows his tears and the pain of rejection, shoving it down to the same deep place where he hid away the pain from losing his sister before. He smiles bravely and nods, and shows her a few more computer tricks before the end-of-lunch bell rings. His back is on her for only a second before he hears her scream. He whirls, and finds only a naked, brainwashed sex toy standing on the lawn, her slight smile fixed and unwavering, her blank eyes like those of a doll. An inflatable sex doll. A pump extends from her anus, unseen hands moving the handle back and forth, causing her breasts to swell larger and larger, her lips to become poutier, her appearance overall much, much sluttier.

Rath awakens with tears in his eyes. His concern for Sarah’s welfare had turned the bittersweet memory into a dark, Gothic vision at the last minute. He hadn’t dreamed about that first time before. He had thought he had forgiven himself for his stupidity.

He had thought he had gotten over her. His first adolescent crush had been the only one where the girl in question had let him down easy. It was also the only one where the relationship remained the same after his blunder. Even better, some would say. She had considered him a friend and confidante. She told him her feelings when she trusted no one else, supported him when no one else would, tried to set him up with friends so he wouldn’t have to live his life in a lonely hell. She had even hidden him that one time he’d gotten sloppy and needed to lie low for a while.

He turned on his computer and packed as it booted up.

Houston reeked. That was all that could be said about it. Having lived all his sixteen years in rural Oklahoma, he was unprepared for the smells of the various industrial zones here. He found the address he was looking for and knocked on the door.

“What do you want, kid?” asked a gruff man on the other side of the intercom.

“Got yer pizza here.” Rath said, turning the hot, steamy box so the security camera could see it. “Deep-dish extra large double meat and double cheese, just like the order says. This is the right address, right?”

“Nobody here ordered a pizza.” the man said. “And if somebody did, they’re in deep-dish trouble. Ordering out ain’t allowed. Security. Now you got five seconds to get your ass behind the gate or I let the dogs out.”

“Fuck you too, asshole.” Rath muttered as he crossed back to the other side of the gate. “Well, that didn’t work.” he said quietly. “I don’t suppose the local law would want to help me either. I’d show ‘em my evidence, but they’d just as readily arrest me for hacking.” He sighed. “I need to adopt a different persona entirely.”

Rath wasn’t all that bad-looking. He kept his skin clean so there weren’t any blemishes. He’d developed a way to work out and sneak into computer systems simultaneously using a voice-recognition module, so he did have a healthy set of muscles. Granted, it wasn’t the six-pack abs and rippling muscles most girls went for, but he wasn’t some skinny little Urkel either. He pushed his small, round, intellectual-looking glasses up to their normal resting place. Definitely not the horn-rimmed “nerd” glasses with the athletic strap one normally associates with hackers of his caliber. He knew karate, and would soon be a brown belt—provided no one found out about his illegal activities. All in all, he was an average-looking guy, though he could probably stand a little time in a tanning booth. And it wasn’t as if he were a jerk or anything. If someone asked, he’d give them a bottle of the homemade wine he made as a hobby, known throughout the school as “The Grapes of Rath,” for use at social gatherings, or what-have-you. Half the school owed him money. He was the unofficial—and unpaid—computer repair expert for the whole town. His problem was that he was painfully shy around women, perhaps because he had never known his mother, and thus never had any experience with them. By the time he had gotten close enough to understand them, they had begun thinking of him as their friend, and nothing more.

Rath allowed his mind to wander to such topics as he put on the rented business/casual suit he would be wearing for Plan B. He had made an appointment with the people in the building to discuss “terms of purchase.” He had learned from the data on his ZIP disk that several of the young women had been sold as “special servants” around the world. They had agreed to meet with him after he disclosed the balance of a certain overseas account (which he had created just that morning using funds “borrowed” from some of the less civic-minded companies). He adjusted the ring which contained the tiny camera and microphone. The chip inside could digitally record up to six hours of data, or it could transmit the data instead via a tiny wireless uplink were it to become separated from his finger. He gently combed gel into his freshly-cut hair. The contacts he wore for the purposes of his infiltration felt odd. He wasn’t used to contacts. He also had some prescription shades, but those looked too much like his glasses for him to feel comfortable. The man from the security booth might recognize him. He glanced at himself in the mirror. He had soaped out some of his hair to give himself a widow’s peak, and after half an hour of getting into character, had managed to make himself look like he belonged in a place where women were brainwashed and sold like show-bitches.

“Time to go.” he said, almost scaring himself with the coldness in his voice. He left the room—and the air purifier therein—and hailed the chauffeur. Thirty minutes later, he was buzzed into the building. He walked with a Nicolas Cage stride into the corridor, having no trouble keeping his expression cold. Hate chilled him as he approached a man with long hair that clung to the back of his otherwise bald head.

“Mr. Ratchet, you’re looking well.” the man said extending a hand.

“As are you, Mr. Reed.” Rath said. “I find it interesting that you are not losing your hair, it is merely sliding off the back of your head.” Mr. Reed laughed.

“You have quite a sense of humor, Mr. Ratchet. Come, I’ll show you around.” As Mr. Reed led Rath around the building, he caught a passing glimpse of Sarah, or at least someone who looked like her new, sluttier self, going down on an Asian girl who couldn’t have been more than fourteen if that.

“I see that all the girls here are large-chested.” Rath said. “I suppose your plastic surgeon is quite the busy man.”

“Actually, no.” Mr. Reed said. “Our plastic surgeon is a face specialist. He improves the facial features of our subjects if they come to us from one of the homelier towns. Their figures are a result of hormone treatments which reduce the fat content of their bodies and increase the bust size and overall curvaceousness of their bodies.”

“And their minds?”

“Quite thoroughly brainwashed.” Mr. Reed said. “The ones here are nothing more than demonstration pieces who mindlessly suck and fuck for the pleasure of slovenly masses with come all over their monitors. They’re blank slates, if you will, ready to be programmed for whatever task the buyer has in mind.” He checked his watch. “The live webcast is about to end. If you like, I can have our current class gather in the presentation hall so you can, er, window shop. But no sampling the merchandise.”

Rath looked over the assembled women, in five rows of something over twenty. Each face just as mindless as the one before it. From time to time he would snap his fingers in front of one of them, but received no response. He noticed that Sarah was standing with the little Asian girl on her left. There was no sign that she recognized him, or even realized he was there. He turned her face to the side gently with his finger. She did not resist. He gripped her breast firmly in one hand. She shivered when he squeezed the nipple.

“Their breasts are quite sensitive.” Mr. Reed said. “Right now this one is quite close to sensory overload.”

“Ah.” Rath said, releasing Sarah’s nipple. She stopped shivering. “These two make a cute couple.” he commented, gesturing to Sarah and the little Asian girl. “How much?”

“They generally bring in an average of six hundred thousand each, net profit to us, five hundred thousand.” Mr. Reed said. “But we do like to have repeat business, so we give something of a discount for larger numbers. If you buy in groups, we take off a hundred thousand each. You know, two for a million, three for one point five...”

“I know how to count, Mr. Reed.” Rath said in a voice that would put a skin of ice on a glass of water. He made his way through the ranks and picked out the next four that caught his attention in one way or another, totaling three million dollars’ worth of merchandise.

“Excellent choices, sir.” Mr. Reed said. “Now, how are we to pay for this?”

“You’ve seen my account.” Rath said. “I even have enough for sales tax. The transaction will be conducted via electronic funds transfer. I have the encryption protocols in my hotel room.”

“Excellent. Now, what kind of programming would you like? You can choose from our package options, or create a custom program yourself.” Rath supressed a shudder. The way this guy was talking, you’d think he were discussing an upcoming computer game, or buying a used car. He managed to keep his cool, however, long enough to give Mr. Reed an outline on which to base the programming, and get into the protected shelter of the limo.

“Rath Hathaway?” asked a nubile black woman. Rath nodded. She sat down across from him at the cafe table. Rath slid a piece of cheesecake over to her. “Your message has greatly disturbed my superiors. I should arrest you right now. How did you get into the CIA computer?”

“My hobby is helping businesses and governments become more secure by showing them the gaps in their security net.” he said around a mouthful of cheesecake.

“You’re a smartass hacker.” the woman said by way of translation. “However, the fact that you managed to put a message directly on our chairman’s Windows desktop is not quite as disturbing as the message itself. You’re sure of your facts?”

“I went in there myself.” Rath said. He handed her a DVD he had made from the data on the ring chip. “This is just a sample. The deal goes down tomorrow night. I’d feel better if I didn’t have to go in alone. I can make it worth your while.”

“How?”

“A guy’s gotta make a living somehow.” Rath said. “Wouldn’t you rather I made an honest living working for the government rather than doing what I had to resort to doing to get these guys to talk to me?”

“Point taken.” the woman said. “Very well. I will inform my superiors, and we will coordinate our efforts.” She sighed then. “It’s sad to think there’s an operation like this running on American soil.”

“It’s sad to think there are operations like this running at all.” Rath replied. The woman nodded. They finished their cheesecake, and the woman picked up the check. Just before he left, he picked up the card she had covertly left behind, which held her name and the number at which she could be reached.

Rath opened the door, doing his best to ignore the stench in the air, magnified by the evil of this place. Six brainwashed little nymphomaniacs stood at attention, unmindful of the chill autumn air in their tiny outfits. A middle-aged gentleman stepped forward, his whole head shaved except for a topknot and ponytail.

“I’m Mr. Landon.” the man said. “I run this establishment. Mr. Reed is my assistant. You have the funds?”

“Just need to know where to send them.” Rath said, slipping the disk with the encryption protocols into his laptop, which he set on the roof of the limo. Soon enough, they had confirmation of the transfer, and the women were loaded into the limo. Suddenly, highly trained agents appeared from hiding places secreted in every shadow. Rath himself pulled two guns from inside his jacket, pointing one at Mr. Landon, the other at Mr. Reed.

“This is where you say ‘Gotcha,’ isn’t it?” Mr. Landon said with a smile. “Actually, it’s my turn to say ‘Gotcha.’” Rath heard the oiled clicks of several weapons being cocked behind him. “Ladies, would you remove your would-be master of his weapons, please?” Rath glanced around as two of the brainwashed women took his handguns. Each of the agents from the shadows was now staring down the barrel of at least one assault weapon. “I take my security very seriously, Mr. Hathaway. Yes, I know your real name. I’ve known since you hacked my server. Oh, you’re good, quite good indeed. It’s a shame I have to blow those brilliant brains all over that nice car. Ladies, I think you’d better duck.” The brainwashed women got into the duck-and-cover position, leaving the guns on the ground.

“If you know so much, Mr. Landon, you should know that Mr. Reed is a Federal agent working for a secret government agency called Section Blue. He was ordered to infiltrate your organization and help bring it down.”

“Nice try, but you’re not going to get out of this by turning me against my assistant.” Landon said. A gun was cocked behind him.

“You should listen to the kid.” Mr. Reed said. “He’s smarter than you gave him credit for. Smarter than I gave him credit for. Drop it.” Landon dropped his weapon.

In a few minutes, Agent Reed appeared at Rath’s side as he was slipping jackets onto the young women who had gotten caught in the middle of all this.

“How’d you know?” he asked.

“I’m a hacker.” Rath replied. “I know everything.”

“We could use someone like you in the group, if you’re interested.”

“If you can make me a better offer than Agent Briggs.” Rath said, smiling toward the stalwart young CIA operative. “She even shared a cheesecake with me.”

It was billed as the best deprogramming facility in the world...or rather, it would be if it weren’t a classified top-secret. Rath would find out soon enough. The door opened, and Sarah walked out, hand-in-hand with Aika, the little Asian girl from the brainwashing facility. The other four rejoined parents, spouses and other family members in the parking lot. Sarah threw herself into Rath’s arms, kissing him passionately.

“I asked if she’d like to stay with us.” Sarah said. “She doesn’t have anyone. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t.” Rath said. “I can always start selling ‘The Grapes of Rath’ instead of giving it away.” Sarah giggled, then kissed him again. Aika crawled into the car with them, but said nothing. Rath figured he could just give her time, and she would start to talk. When they got onto the highway, Sarah put Rath’s hand on her ample bosom.

“I want to thank you for all you’ve done.” she said. “I don’t know if anyone else would have gone through so much for me.” Her voice was husky, and she spoke softly. “If you don’t mind an audience, I know a club where we can go to dance.”

“You’re asking me out to dance?” Rath asked.

“Maybe I’m starting to think of you differently.” she replied.

“Well, in that case, I’d love to.”