The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Awakening

A chime sounded and silver-skinned Thrall F22 awoke on its command as did M22 with whom she had been rostered to shar the sleeptube during this period of downtime. Downtime was a vital part of Hive-22’s routine and normally lasted for a full eight hours. Two Thralls always shared one of the thirteen tubes in Hive-22’s accommodation, their Controller occupying the vacant twenty-sixth space.

F22 stretched, removed its earpods and popped them into the cubbyhole where they would be sanitised. Then with M22’s assistance, disconnected the stumpy drogue that docked their pussy shields and kept the two Thralls intimately linked and stimulated during sleeptime. The Thralls grasped the drogue’s locking rings and twisted them in opposite directions. There was a familiar dull ‘click’ that seemed to reverberate through F22’s pussy caused by the ends of the probe retracting from the shield port. It felt regret as its physical link with M22 was severed and the stimulation provided by the implant in its sealed vagina decreased to the normal daytime levels. The port cover slid shut and the drogue joined the earbuds in the sanitising cubbyhole.

Finally the two Thralls disconnected the computer leads that were plugged into their navel ports and with a final quick kiss they rolled away from each other after a “night” of shared intimacy. There as a brief pause as the sleeptube’s mechanism cycled into “day” mode and when the hatch slid open, the former women slid out and took their places in the anteroom along with their twenty three emerging silver Thrallsiblings.

Controller22 looked around and performed visual scan to check that all thirteen capsules had opened and that all of its charges were present and correct: then, with a proud ‘maternal smile’, led them off to the shower tunnel where, after a brief pause to allow Hive-17 to complete its ablutions, Hive-22 followed its Controller into the warm sanitising torrent.

Then, cleansed and dried they, marched back to their anteroom for personal maintenance and then breakfast obtained from the serving portal. After this savoury brown paste had been consumed the Thralls donned their headsets and, with mirrored visors pulled down over their eyes, marched off happily to carry out whatever tasks had been allotted to them.

It had been many weeks since Emily Crawford and her friends had ceased to exist on being absorbed by the various Hives that made up The Collective. Meanwhile, life in the mainstream-world had continue in its usual disorganised way. The Collective planning for its future while the ‘real-world’ while seemed to react haphazardly to it after it had unfolded. This meant that the latter would fear the former—if it became aware of its existence. Luckily for The Collective, ignorance continue to be bliss although this was more the result of detailed planning rather than blind luck.

Amanda Sullivan, Debra’s aunt, being the person who had paid for the fateful holiday, was the first to realise that the girls had vanished. When they didn’t return from their stay in the rented North Wales cabin she tried phoning their mobiles but was ‘invited’ to leave a message by each of the numbers that she called. After trying many times over the next few days she became worried enough to a contract the local police who were sympathetic but informed her that nearly 100,000 adults went missing in the UK every year and that there was very little that they could do as they had no evidence that a crime had been committed. They attempted to reassured Amanda that ‘these cases usually resolved themselves pretty quickly’ and that 70% of adults normally turned up again within a few days. To them reassuring concerned members of the public was all part of their daily routine.

However they did pass concerns to the North Wales Police who detailed an officer to visit the isolated cabin and make a welfare check. On arrival at the holiday let he found Debra’s old Volkswagen still parked outside. When the officer entered the cabin he found Tony slumped on the floor: semi-conscious, dehydrate and very confused. Of the three girls, there was no trace but, worryingly, their clothes and mobile phones were scattered around the place.

The officer attempted to question Tony who persisted in babbling about ‘bright lights in the sky’, ‘silver women’ and ‘alien abductions’. An ambulance had been summoned and he was rushed to hospital in Betws-y-Coed were he was treated and kept for a week’s observation after which he was released.

The Police then questioned him further and when he stuck to his story he was arrested on suspicion of murdering the three girls before being released due to a total lack of evidence. Further searches of the cabin discovered the tracks of a couple of other vehicles and Tony was then questioned about his ‘accomplishes’. Again he stuck to his story but now began to become very agitated so was taken home to England.

Police, still unsure as to what had happened, began to suspect that either the girls had, for reasons known only to themselves, decided to disappear or they had been abducted although they had nothing to go on other than faint wheel tracks and Tony’s confused statement: none of which was a great deal of help. The weren’t even sure that a crime had been committed, in fact only thing that they were sure of was that Emily Crawford, Debra Walton and Madge McGuire were still missing having vanished without trace in a blaze of nocturnal light during a barbecue. Tony’s story of mysterious ‘silver women’ being dismissed as a delusion possibly brought on by drugs and traces of THC’s had indeed been found in his system which supported that particular idea.

The case, while not closed, eventually became just another log on the Police National Computer and investigations were wound down a few weeks later and would remain so until new leads emerged. Emily Crawford, Debra Walton and Madge McGuire had by now become yesterday’s news and statistics to all except the people who knew them.

Work Detail

F22, formally known to its friends as Emily Crawford, spent the first part of the day working happily in its unit’s data processing centre inputting information on sales figures and returns on behalf of a paying client. The data processing centre carried out contract work for real-world organisations and was one of the many very profitable enterprises run by The Collective. Thralls handled data, manned call centres, assembled and packaged items, sorted recycled waste and carried out 1001 other tasks well out of sight of the general public. Their efforts meant that The Hives, and The Collective that they belonged too, were a financially self-sustaining organisation that funded its own growth as well as its day-to-day existence.

F22 worked away happily and efficiently until the data handling tasks allotted to it had been completed. It then shut down its computer and sat quietly for a minute or two thinking of nothing in particular while it waited for its reward. It sat quietly until the device sealed inside its pussy received a signal from The Unit’s mainframe and began to vibrate at a massively increased level. The stimulation triggering a sudden orgasm that caused F22 to shake and cry out happily as waves of pleasure radiate through it. Naturally the other Thralls seated at the surrounding desks paid it no heed as they beavered away at their allocated tasks.

Then, after its insides had quietened down, F22 was instructed to make its way back to its Hive’s anteroom and lunch.

After a rest and a brief period of intimate contact with its Hive-siblings, F22 headed off to its next allotted task: this time inside the Unit’s Human Resources Centre. Times move on and the small room in which she had been modified and conditioned had recently been closed down, dismantled and replaced by new processing facilities. Mistress had apparently decreed that the Unit to which Hive-22 belonged would become the regional centre for recruitment and integration: hence the recent expansion of the facilities to accomplish these tasks on a far larger scale.

The equipment inside the processing room was new and as F22 was unfamiliar with its operation instructions and check lists were projected onto the inside of its visor to guide it through unfamiliar tasks. The visor provided it with the information that it needed as it moved from one restrained female to the next, checking on them; adjusting dose-rates; feeding them; cleaning them: in fact carrying out any task that was necessary to speed them on their way to integration into the worthwhile new life that had been decreed for them. Later, much later, it was released for a comfort break and for refreshment and trotted off happily back to its Hive anteroom.

When it returned to the conversion room some twenty minutes later the Thrall was greeted by the familiar sight of T17 who was in conversation with Controller17 and a normal-looking Indian woman who was wearing an expensive-looking beige business suit and kitten heel shoes. The woman turned towards F22 and gave it a suspicious stare, her hard brown eyes seeming to question the Thralls basic right to existence. As F22’s eyes fell upon the woman a label was projected onto the inside of its visor that identified her as Monitor-Raksha.

F22 felt its heart flutter for this was the first Monitor whose presence she had entered: although she knew that Monitors were something like super-controllers and were tasked with higher level management within The Collective.

“Come here, F22!” The Monitor commanded and when the Thrall complied she looked at its body, examining it in detail, before saying. “Raise your visor.”

“Yes, Monitor.” The Thrall replied in an awestruck voice as it obeyed.

The Monitor peered at F22’s face for a few seconds before smiling. “So it is you, Emily, welcome to my team!”

The Thrall trembled as conflicting emotions ran through it... Emily! it thought. That name has significance... But what?

From somewhere very deep in her psyche, a little voice seemed to say. “’ss me!”

But that couldn’t be... Thralls did not have names, not like Monitors. It raised its eyes and met The Monitors gaze: the woman’s hard brown eyes seemed to bore straight into F22... It shivered again... But wait! A memory floated up from it knew not where... A memory that told it that the Monitor was also Dr Raksha Samri from Ludlow University, or at least she used to be. Dr Samri had been Emily’s tutor until she left her teaching post very suddenly in the middle of the Summer term in Emily’s second year. No one seeming to know why.

To the Monitor’s amusement, F22 recoiled and tore its eyes away from the face that was both very familiar and totally new to it.

Monitor-Raksha’s face softened and she smiled warmly. “So it is you!”

The Monitor turned back to Controller17. “She was one of my brightest students and I had her targetted especially. Were her memories preserved as I instructed?”

The controller tried to hide her transient frown but didn’t quite manage it. “Its memories were preserved intact but were locked just as ordained, Monitor.”

The Indian woman turned back to stare at F22 once more even though she was still addressing the Controller. “I take it by your expression that you do not approve?”

Controller17 stiffened. “Monitor?”

The Monitor, who had once been Dr Raksha Samri, gave a brief snorting laugh. “No matter! But remember this, Controller: she will be required to serve Our Mistress in other ways in the future. In the meantime she is to work solely within this section and is to be upgraded as necessary.”

The Controller nodded stiffly and a few seconds later said. “All work and duty rosters have been been amended to this effect, Monitor.”

Idly, almost as if deep in thought, Monitor-Raksha extended a hand and fondled one of F22’s plump, silver breasts. “So nice! You have no idea just how long it is that I’ve wanted to do this...”

Suddenly she took her hand away and turned back to the Controller. “And while we are at it, I require Thrall E22 to be allocated to work alongside F22. She is also one of my students,” she chuckled dryly before adding, “or rather she was! Not as bright as dear Emily, here, but she had a good working grasp of the life sciences non-the-less.”

She stared at the Controller, almost relishing her confusion. “Oh and make sure that they are paired for all things... I am interested to see if their former friendship can work to the benefit of Our Mistress.”

Thoughts seemed to come together in whatever it was that passed for F22’s mind...

E22...

Debra Walton...

Red-head...

My friend...

It reached up and lowered its visor so that neither of its superiors could see the confused expression that flashed across its face.

Relaxation

Evening and off duty at last! Not that F22 took greater pleasure from this than it did from working for the good of Hive and Collective, but ‘off-duty’ brought different rewards, ones of a more personal and intimate nature. Not that a Thrall retained any notion of anything resembling ‘personal’.

Evening meal, like all others, was eaten around the small tables in Hive-22’s anteroom, The meal would have been a social occasion were it not for the fact that it was eaten in silence: each Thrall’s concentrating upon its food and ignoring its siblings. An outsider would have been surprised that there was no chatter and would have remarked upon the absence of conversation but there again, Thralls had nothing that they needed to discuss with each other.

After eating and sitting quietly for half an hour, during which they took turns visiting the toilets as needed, they then moved tables and chairs, stacking them at the end of the room so as to clear the main floor area. Once space was freed they lined up facing their Controller who, utilizing the routines demonstrated on the display screen, led them for the hour’s daily exercises and callisthenics session that Mistress had decreed to be necessary for the health of the minds and bodies that she owned. Again, like eating, this activity was carried out in near-silence while music poured out of the speakers built into the room’s structure... It was the familiar music that they all remembered from their own initial conversions... Mozart-like music: all notes and subliminal muttering that flushed out their receptive minds—washing away all non-Thrall thoughts like the toxic garbage that they were.

After the exercises and a designated rest period, which was spent reclining upon the soft, rubberised floor during which all of them, Controller included, stared at the large display screen that was built into one wall. Slowly, very slowly, the display changed from a neutral grey to a pleasant lilac which seemed to calm the watching group of former women. Suddenly a pulsating golden spot flashed into existence and as it began to turn, the watching Thralls were bombarded with soothing subliminals that caused them to relax even further and become more responsive to what was about to unfold. The golden spot steadied and then began to swell and turn before mutating slowly into a beautiful multicoloured spiral... A spiral that slowly turned an seemed to draw them into its alluring centre. A spiral that filled their honest and open minds. A spiral that reassured them that all was well in the world that they shared with their wonderful Hivesiblings.

Eventually its centre swelled and change into a portrait of the one Beautiful Woman that they all adored...

The Beautiful Woman who owned them body and soul...

The Beautiful Woman who made their sealed pussies flutter around their gently vibrating implants...

The Beautiful Woman who none of them had ever met, yet knew ever so intimately...

MISSSSTRESSSSSS!

“I love you all!” Mistress affirmed in a voice like the swish of expensive purple silk.

Suddenly, with a sigh that was reminiscent of a breaking wave of love, every one of the former women spontaneously orgasmed.

Losing all track of time F22 and its Hivesiblings stared longingly at the Holy image until it eventually faded and a chime sounded to announce that it was time for the evening’s socialization session.

The Thralls, F22 included, rose to their feet and gazed once more at the large display screen which now showed a series of coloured boxes, each containing the identities of two or four Thralls. From the boxes they learned who they were to partner for the coming activity: the nature of which they knew and eagerly anticipated.

When it looked at the screen it saw that there were six quads, including one containing The Controller. F22 frowned for this was rather more foursomes than usual, but it suspected that this was being done as a team building measure to reinforce their sense of belonging. The one and only pair box contained the identities, E22 and F22, which, considering what the Monitor had decreed earlier in the day, was only to be expected.

The Thrall-siblings then gathered around the storage unit and each of them grabbed an identical plug-in silver dildos. It then slid open the port at the front of its pussy shield, inserted the end of the phallus and locked it in place with a twist. It lubed up the dildo making sure that the whole of the shaft was smeared with gel and then looked around the press of silver bodies. Then, as the tool powered up, F22 spotted its designated partner over at the far side of the room and eagerly made its way over to join E22 in a clear part of the floor.

“Hi Debra!” F22 said by way of an unplanned greeting and then clapped a hand over its mouth in horrified shock.

“This one’s designation is E22: there is no Debra.” The Thrall announced in a cold, mechanical voice. It then looked around and made sure that they were well clear of the nearest quad, who were already daisy-chaining and dropped down onto all fours to allow itself to be mounted.

F22 knelt down behind its Thrall-sibling, grasped the slick dildo with its right hand and held it steady as it shuffled forward until the tool’s bulbous head was pressing against E22’s sphincter. Then with a sudden thrust of its hips it entered its partner of the evening causing the other Thrall to gasp with shear delight. A sound that was almost lost amongst the gleeful squeals, sighs and moans brought about by similar joyous penetrations.

Grasping E22’s hips securely, F22 began to pump its vibrating faux-dick in and out of its partner’s back passage and establish a delightful rhythm while its thrusts triggered bursts of stimulation from the units inside both of their sealed pussies. Stimulation that synchronise itself to F22’s pelvic thrusts as it eagerly fucked its compliant partner.

I’m fucking Debra’s arsehole! F22-Emily thought as she slammed into the creature that had been her friend for longer than she could remember. Suddenly the enormity of the thought hit her and put her off her stroke. She quickly regained her rhythm, however. and the the first of many orgasms soon made her forget the wrong-thinking as it blasted all coherent thought out of her overstimulated mind. She carried on thrusting and soon felt E22-Debra’s silver body grow tense just before it to came explosively...

...And the dance continued.

It continued until a computer voice instructed them to: “Rearrange sets!” Sexual activity wound down and ceased so that the sets could reposition themselves: a complicated procedure for the daisy chains but much simpler for the solitary pair. And after pulling out of E22, F22 dropped down onto her hands and knees where she waited expectantly.

“This one will now enter you!” E22 announced unnecessarily, and Emily suddenly yelped as she felt herself being stretched by her partner’s vibrating anal intruder.

“Yes!” Emily-F22 shrieked as her/its friend slammed into her rear with enough force to produce a meaty slap of thighs against arse and trigger both Thralls’ pussy implants to suddenly activate and produce a jolt of stimulation that was almost enough to make Emily cum there and then.

Debra is fucking me! Ran through F22’s head, but this time the wrong-thought seemed perfectly natural and failed to trigger a shocked response.

E22 soon fell into a mechanical rhythm of thrust and pull back; thrust and pull back; thrust and pull back. A rhythm matched by the activities of their vaginal implants and guaranteed to produce maximum stimulation in minimum time as Debra rode them both to orgasm after orgasm with almost mechanical efficiency.

Eventually a chime sounded and all penetrative sex ceased for the day. E22 slid her dildo out of F22’s backside for the last time and the two former women lay facing each other on the rubberised floor where they cuddled and basked in their joint post orgasmic glow while, all around them, the evening’s social activities wound down.

I do love Debra. F22 thought idly and then frowned as it realised that its feelings towards E22 were more intense than her feelings towards her other Thrall-siblings. She hugged the other Thrall and began to untangle these rogue thoughts.

She might have got somewhere with this if the chime hadn’t sounded again triggering another burst of activity. As one, the Thralls all reached down and removed their plug-ins with a synchronized ‘click’: the tools were then returned to the storage module where they would be sanitised ready for tomorrow’s social session.

Thralls then packed themselves into the shower where the musk and sweat of the evening’s activities were efficiently sluiced away. Then, after a visit to the toilet, they returned the tables and chairs to their previous positions before queueing to receive their individually prescribed and medicated evening milk-drink.

A medical team then entered and made their way around the seated Thralls, injecting a few of them with any substances that were necessary for their bodies’ maintenance and mind’s adjustment. As they did so, the former women sat relaxing and supping their drinks seemingly oblivious to Medtechs presence.

The Medical-Specialists were quite a visual contrast to the naked silvered bodies of the Thralls and their almost identical Controller. For a start the four of them were clad in green medical scrubs and only two of them were silver while the other two had normal, unmodified skin-tone and full heads of hair: they also talked as they worked, both to each other and to the Thralls, who they instinctively treated as individuals.

One of them, a long-haired blonde woman, approached F22 carrying a stainless steel bowl containing a hypodermic needle and a swab. “Hy-ya, F22!” The Med-Tech burbled companionably. “And how do you feel?”

The Thrall shrugged. “This one is tired.”

The medic grinned. “After what you were getting up too I ain’t surprised.”

F22 did not know how to answer so it remained quiet.

As the blonde medic swabbed the Thrall’s left arm and slid the needle into it, she leaned in closer. “See that little nurse over there?” She whispered, cocking her head towards the nearest of the two silver medics.

F22, who was slightly puzzled by the purpose of this conversation, just nodded.

“Well,” grinned the medic, “it’ll be our turn soon and I’m going to fuck the shit out of her as soon as we finish our shift!”

“Indeed!” Remarked F22, who was more than a little confused.

The medic chuckled. “Damned right I am! She bangs like a shit-house door in a gale!” She exclaimed happily and then was gone.

Sleep

It was just after this confusing interlude that F22 followed E22 into the sleeptube that they were rostered to share. Once inside, and after the door had hissed shut, the two Thralls prepared themselves for sleep and for what led up to it. They lay down on their sides facing each other and for no apparent reason F22 kissed the other Thrall on the end of its nose: a spontaneous gesture that caused E22 to smile, despite its confusion.

The Thralls then reached behind them and tugged the long computer leads out of their housings: the leads were then locked into their navel ports where they would carry out several functions over the course of the night. Being based on USB’s they would patch each Thrall’s software and update their internal databases while charging up the battery packs of the vaginal modules sealed inside them.

Next, E22 retrieved the freshly sanitised drogue from its cubbyhole and slid one end of it into the groin port in its pussy-cover while F22 did the same with the other end. Then they both grasped the locking rings and twisted them in opposite directions. There was a ‘clunk’ as the ends of the drogue engaged and locked the Thralls together breast to breast, belly to belly and cover to cover. Finally they retrieved the ear buds and fitted them so that they could receive subliminal conditioning and instruction while they slept.

Relaxing they hugged each other and cuddled and kissed. Then while E22 nibbled F22’s neck just above its collar and F22 fondled E22’s breasts, Ideas ran unbidden trough the Thrall’s errant brain.

The Medtech was to blame! F22 imagined her fucking the nurse’s arsehole... It frowned... The blonde Medtech is going to fuck the shit out of the Nurse... F22 thought.

The Thrall was puzzled by this. Has this one spent the evening fucking the shit out of E22?

The thoughts rearranged themselves with something akin to a mental-jolt. No! I have spent the evening fucking the shit out of Debra and Debra also fucked the shit out of me.

Suddenly it all made sense.

She hugged her sleepmate tightly and then kissed her passionately while the other Thrall responded in kind.

Then just as their pussy-implants purred into gentle life and the sleeppod’s lights cycled down to a pale night-time glow something inside F22’s brain changed. “I do love you, Debra!” Emily purred quietly.

There was a definite pause, then. “This one loves... you... too, F22!” It whispered hesitantly.

Emily relaxed in E22’s arms and together they drifted off into their pre-programmed and well regulated sleep.